


Stitching the Stars

by zeciex



Category: Kylo Ren - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ALL OF THE WARNINGS, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Redemption, Love/Hate, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 119,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeciex/pseuds/zeciex
Summary: Sol is a commissioned assassin with a tragic past and a kill list. She's a survivor above all else and would do anything to keep breathing.When The First Order gets a hint of where this assassin is they go to capture her to extort information from her. When The First Order interrogator fails to extort any information from her they decide to send in the one person who knows how to get into someone's head.Kylo Ren is not impressed at first, that is until he tries to enter her mind and find himself blocked.This little assassin is more than what she seems.----Give this story a shot, I'm terrible at summaries.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 163
Kudos: 354





	1. Collision Course

**Author's Note:**

> Read the warnings!

Heavy clouds rolled in over the highrise threatening to split open at any moment. The wind whirled past the buildings, whistling and hissing at the corners and tossing up Sol’s dark wig. She’d been standing perched on the balcony for an hour now, holding the sniper rifle and looking through the scope into the apartment across from her. It was a nice apartment with expensive furnishing that revealed a more than wealthy benefactor. 

Clarence Ordell was going to attend a small party thrown by one of his girlfriends to commence their four year anniversary. Sol had wondered if the girl knew what kind of man she shared her bed with and decided that of course, she did. She blew a stray piece of hair away from her face and bit her lips when the man with a price on his head appeared, smiling and hugging his friends. So The First Order officers were human after all. 

Not much longer. 

Looking over to a rooftop, she checked that her decoy gun was still there and ready at the push of a button.

The barrel moved into position and with one light tap at the trigger the shot went off, burning across the space between buildings, tearing through the glass of the window and found its target in a blast of burning light and a powerful knock. Panic erupted, white stormtroopers busted in through the door, only to see their officer with a giant hole in his torso. 

The job always brought along a certain kind of rush. Adrenaline shot through her veins, heart pumping at an alarming pace. The rush was exhilarating, a high you’d need no pill for. The high always brought a chance for error, left uncontrolled it would be her downfall. She breathed in and out, pushed her rapidly beating heart drumming in her ears from her mind and zoned in on the task at hand, just as she was taught as a child. 

Sol pushed a button and more blaster fire shot into the apartment with no target in mind. A diversion for the troopers to follow as she made her line of escape. The gun was dismantled as much as it could be and put into a bag. 

When she left the apartment the troopers were shooting at the decoy gun. And by the time she entered the streets her decoy had been stopped which meant she needed to haul ass and get moving. 

The Emissary was a lousy little drinking hole fit for the criminal underground. There were all sorts of creatures here, most of whom had said background, Sol included, while others used it as a gateway to get in contact with criminals. This was the meeting ground picked by her middle man, Deacon no last name. 

“You’re late,” he noted, leaning back in his seat. Sol frowned and sat down opposite him, wiggling her nose at the smell of the establishment, of sweat and piss and much worse. Through her nose caught a whiff of something sweet. 

“I’m right on time,” she noted. 

“Do you have proof of death?” The small screen skittered across the table and into his pedicured fingers, the screen lighting up the scene where Ordell’s chest is shot right through and shattered to a bloody display. Deacon took the screen and pocketed it. Sol smirked. 

“So, payment,” Deacon continued, putting up 8 cards with credits, each with 10,000 credits. Sol’s smirk grew, pulse elevating. This is what she worked so hard for, killed for. Money. Deacons smile grew as Sol’s became stiff. “3 credits for The Crow, 2 credits for me, 2 credits to pay off your debt.” For each count there was less and less on the table, each one pinching her heart a little more. The last credit dragged across the table as he moved it deliberately and with great gratification in her dwindling mood, he slid the card to her. 

“This is too fucking little for this kind of job!” Sol hissed, taking the card from the sticky table and pocketing it. 

“And yet, you will take it anyway,” Decon gloated, then turned serious. “This is your job. You don't have the luxury do anything else. This is your life, sweetie, like it or not.” 

If she could afford it, she’d smash the bottle over his head until she saw brains. 

“You’re robbing me blind,” she hissed at him. “I’m one of the best The Crow has. I should make more than this and with the risk involving it.”

“Take it up with The Crow,” Deacon dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “But I tell you this; you better keep that pretty little head of yours down for a while. The first order is sniffing around and you never know what they’ll overhear.”

“Are you threatening me?” Her hand snuck towards the blaster strapped to her thigh. Deacon smiled uncensored. Rat bastard. 

“No, dear, I’m warning you. Striking against The First Order once is one thing, do it multiple times is another. At some point, the stings will lead back to you.” 

“I’m good at covering my tracks. The only reason for The First Order finding me would be if someone snitched,” Sol answered back, equally threatening and patronising. “And snitching is bad for business.” 

“Snitching, as you call it, can be quite a lucrative business. Ah well, you’re lucky we’re not in that line of business especially as your closing in on final payments,” Decon mused with a smirk, rolling his shoulders and getting up. “It is as always, a pleasure doing business with you, S.” 

Left to wallow in her misery over a bad pay cut, Sol decided to approach the bar to find something, anything to wash out the sour taste that was left in her mouth. The Besalisk barkeep nodded to her while simultaneously pouring a drink and cleaning a cup. 

“Bring me something strong,” she ordered the barkeeper, who poured her a clear liquid and pushed it towards her with no words spoken. The liquid burned down her throat and warmed her stomach. It was horrid and perfect. 

“Drinking away your sorrows I see,” a familiar voice spoke, making Sol roll her eyes and take another big gulp. This time it seemed to burn her in the nose. Vic took up the chair beside her, leaning against the bar and tilting his head as he observed the woman. 

“If you’re here to persuade me to join the resistance again, you can shove it. The resistance pays worse than The Crow, unless of course, it’s a specific assassination they want, then they pay as well as The First Order.”

“But wouldn’t you sleep better knowing you did something good?” Vic coaxed. 

“I sleep fine, thank you. I’d prefer to stay out of politics,” Sol answered with a cynical smile, throwing back the last of her drink. Vic always tried to get her to join, every single time they ran into each other which wasn’t a little. He was a recruiter for the resistance though she couldn’t imagine he ever recruited anyone, especially in these kinds of circles. Criminals were far too concerned with their own skin. 

“No one can stay out of politics, S. The resistance needs people like you,-”

“An assassin?”

“You don’t have to be an assassin. You could become a pilot, or…. a spy, yes! A spy, that suits you better. You infiltrate The First Order or their allies, gather intel and send word back.”

“And how much would they pay me?” Sol questioned knowing the answer already. The chair squeaked as she brought it around to face him fully, a glare edged upon her face. 

“I-uh, well, they can't pay you a lot but you’ll have a cause.”

“A cause to die for you mean. Look, I value my life and would prefer to keep it intact. Infiltrating The First Order or their allies to spy on them is something I’m not willing to die for. The resistance needs people who believe. Find someone else, someone who’ll give their life for the cause.” She rose from her seat, the alcohol rushing around her body. She turned and smiled at him “Try those guys over there.” She pointed towards the small group of Epicanthix sitting at a table in the shadows, decked out in robust armour and looking especially approachable. With that, she walked away out of the bar and towards home. 

Vic made a face and rolled his eyes. “I’ve talked to them already, not the most pleasant bunch.”

“I’m afraid you’ve tried them all then. Good luck, Vic, and tell that pilot guy with the hair and the face that he still owes me.” She waved dismissively over her shoulder, heading straight towards the door. 

Home was a small apartment on the 67th floor, made of concrete and with a single window. Her sheets were silk, on her one wall hung all her expensive cloth, gold and silver jewellery littered her small vanity. Sol was a woman of refined taste. Refined as in expensive, designer and custom. Quick fingers also helped add to her collection.

It was her small joy, to own things she’d not have much opportunity to use outside of work. The black wig was placed alongside her other wigs releasing a flow of pale hair. It had the faint traces of silver. With a sigh, she threw herself at the bed and curled into a ball. 

Just a few more jobs and she’d have paid off her debt to The Crow as well as buy her own freedom. 

Freedom; what was she going to do with it? Properly more of the same, though this time she’d take home big money. She’d finally get to the list she recited in her head every once in a while, when she woke in a pool of sweat after a nightmare or a grim reminder of what had been taken from her.

_ The red lady, The Crow, Tarlan Vox, Jun Vox, Emoryn Landing, Medina Green, Tobias Toh.  _

A pounding vibrated through the room, waking her up with a start, hand quickly wrapping around the grip of a blaster. No one knew where she lived with the exception of The Crow. No one knocked on her door, ever. Her heart began to drum in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her body increasing the pounding in her head. 

Dread tugged at her guts, goosebumps rising over her skin. It was the body's way of telling her that something was wrong. That whoever it was behind the door was not a friend. With silent steps she inched towards the door, blaster pointed at it ready to fire at any given moment. 

“Open up!” Called a voice from the other side, the words distorted and almost impossible to hear. 

Sol placed the barrel against the door before opening it ajar, peeping out. A rush ran through her when her eyes landed on the white stormtroopers. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She smiled politely if a little strained. “What can I do for you?”

“Come with us without any trouble,” the distorted voice of the trooper ordered, drumming his fingers against his blaster to bring attention to it. 

Sol kept the smile on her face. “I’m always trouble.” The blaster shot through the door, hitting the trooper square in the chest sending him into collision with the wall.

The door was kicked in, swinging violently open and hitting the boxes she had against the wall behind it. Sol managed to shoot one more before a third came in, knocking the blaster out of her hands. She readied herself in combat stance, taking the momentum to grip his blaster and pull him towards her while she launched herself at him, bringing a knee to his lower abdomen. 

The trooper let out a strangled gust of air before having the blaster pulled from his hands and the butt of it brought straight to his face. He fell back on the ground with a groan. 

Sol wiped her hair out of her face, calmly pointing the blaster at the stormtrooper. “How did you find me?” He remained silent. She scoffed at him, then brought her heel down upon his thigh with immense force, hearing the sickening break of his bone and a scream ripped through the modifier of his helmet. 

“I don’t know! I’m just following orders.” 

“Was it that bastard Deacon?” Sol continued to question. When she got the same unsatisfying answer, she blasted him through the head. 

_ I have to get out of here, _ she thought and immediately began packing her most precious items. The little credit she had saved up was thrown in the same bag as her jewellery, dresses and other clothes all shoved in a big duffle along with a sword, a blaster and a few knives. 

By the time she had packed and changed her clothing that was more suitable to fight in, wrapped her hair in a bun held in place by a single silver pin, several precious minutes had passed. 

She had barely reached halfway down the hall, stepping over the dead troopers, when a whole wave of white crashed into the grey hall. 

Sol shot two more dead before those behind them had reached arms length. They didn’t seem to have an order to kill which in some way was better. Capture, however, was not a pleasant option either. 

She stepped back avoiding a blow, then proceeded to kick the stormtrooper in the chest and turned to run away when she was stopped in her tracks. 3 stormtroopers had come in from behind. Curses flew through her mind. She should have been better. With the seven of them, she was severely out-gunned. Maybe if they were in a bigger space she’d be able to move enough to take four of them, but like this, with bodies limiting one's steps and the walls so close, it’d be impossible. 

So she did what was most logical; she threw down the blaster and surrendered. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. I have money.”

Rough hands gripped her arms and brought them back to be cuffed behind her back. “We’re not for sale, unlike you, you gutter scum.” The troopers proceeded to bust her lip, blacken her eye and beat her black and blue for the death of their friends. It wasn’t overly pleasant, but it was not the worst beating she had experienced, which only proved that they had more in store for her. If she was going to survive she’d have to reign in her tendencies to bite back. 

“So, where are we going?” Sol questioned when she was tied down in a seat on a small shuttle. They were taking her off planet, that much was obvious, but where exactly she wasn’t sure. By this time the pain in her head had doubled, throbbing along with the split lip and swelling of her eye. Fear had begun to seep into her mind spreading as lightning in her chest. 

“You’ll find out soon enough. It’ll make what we did to you feel like a vacation,” a trooper growled, seating himself in the seat opposite her. Ah, the threat of torture, she had been wondering when it’d come up. 

It didn’t take long to leave the planet and enter lightspeed. 

There hadn’t been any windows for her to peak out of, so when the doors to the ship opened and revealed what looked like the inside of a huge ship, her fears had been affirmed. The mothership, or at least one of them.

Squadrons of stormtroopers marched over the black decks of the ship, in neat and precise lines. The shuttle deck bustled with life, from mechanics trying to fix ships, to the shouting of orders commanding officers and a cleanup crew. None of them batted an eye when they pushed her down the ramp and pulled her along until she sat tightly fixed in a metal chair. 

“So, are you ready to answer some questions?” A soldier asked, coming into her line of view. This trooper didn’t wear the white armour, there was no need, the threat in the room was thoroughly restrained or so they believed. Instead, he wore a grey suit, with a rather strange hat. A self-satisfied smile spread across his lips as he held up an instrument that could only be used for one purpose. 

“That depends on what you’re willing to pay for the answers,” Sol smiled back. Electricity shot through her body. Her body convulsed, hands balling into fists so tight her knuckles were completely white. Blood drummed behind her temples, eyes stinging with tears and throat running dry. Despite all of that she didn’t say a thing. “A-a girl can’t just hand out answers to just anyone.” The punishment for speaking out of turn crushed into her once again. The contents of her stomach threatened to make an appearance, something which was sure to earn another round of shock. 

“We’ve had men tougher than you sit in this chair. They all sang so beautifully at the end.”

“I didn’t know you were giving singing lessons. You don’t have the voice-,” electricity bolted through her again, this time a little longer and a little stronger. Sol began to heave, snot and spit dripping down her face, eyes getting bloodshot. Her pale lips moved but no voice came out, just a breath of air. The torturer leaned in to hear what she had to say. He yelled in pain when her forehead collided with his nose. The ever so straight nose was no longer so very straight. Two lanes of blood ran down from it. With a mixture of surprise and anger, the soldier looked at the blood on his fingers, then back at Sol, who despite the massive pain in her head, smirked. 

The soldier threw out all restraint and went to backhand her across the face, opening her lip once more and splitting her eyebrow. At this close range, Sol drew up her loose foot and went for where it hurts the most. A strangled sound escaped the soldier when he fell on one knee. It was a fatal error. Quickly, Sol wrapped her legs around his throat and began squeezing. 

Robbed of breath and in great pain, panic set in and the soldier began violently thrashing his arms and legs in an attempt to get out of her hold. He should never have put down the shock barton. 

Just as the soldier passed out there was a whoosh from behind her and the faintest breeze of air rushed in. Electricity was once more send through her body, while the poor unconscious soldier was pulled for her spasming things that were rendered unable to hold on. The shock continued until she was sure she’d piss herself. When it finally stopped, Sol was wheezing. Her legs were placed under restraint and they decided to strap down her chest as well, for good measure.

A true stormtrooper had taken up residence against the wall, mask revealing nothing thought the aura coming from him was annoyed. Then entered the replacement, this time a stone-faced woman, with hair pulled in an impossibly tight bun. 

She didn’t smile. “Shall we try this again?”

“I’d prefer not to.” Shock. Pain. Small dots of black blurring her vision.

Even if Sol was able to take out both Mrs. tight bun and the trooper, they’d just send more. It was an endless cycle. It was the most frightening of all. Kill one and two more shall appear. 

True fear had begun to spread through her, the feeling finally setting in. Sweat coated her skin though she felt cold. Her throat was dry and raw, while her lungs strained and weak. The body could only take so much before it began to lose control, even if you were a seasoned warrior with training. Her body was receptive to torture like everyone else's but her mind was set on control. 

If she was going to survive this, she’d have to meet one of higher rank, bargaining with someone like that woman wouldn’t get you very far. So she held back her words and ground her teeth. 

An hour passed before the black dots filled her entire vision. Darkness wrapped around her mind and pulled her into unconsciousness. The last thought she had was a prayer that when she woke she wouldn’t have to stare into that tightly pulled frown of the woman. 

And only as she awoke would she know that her wish had come true. 

  
  



	2. An Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogation happens and takes an unexpected turn for the worse.

Whoosh, the doors behind her opened and closed again, letting in the slightest of breezes something only a person could bring. Sol waited and listened. 

“Five of our soldiers died bringing you in. One is in the hospital.” A dark modified voice said. The hairs on her body stood painfully. “The general’s interrogator can’t seem to get anything substantial out of you and so he sends me to rectify his failures.”

This wasn’t boding well. She wanted a person in a position of power, not an executioner. Without being able to see him and the distortion of his voice she wasn’t able to do a reading of him. He felt like a black hole. Still, she decided to test the waters despite the pounding in her head and the vagueness of him. 

“As I told the other interrogator I’m motivated by money so maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement.” 

“And why should we negotiate with a rebel when I can simply take what I want?” His steps were heavy. Sol tried to catch a glance at him but he remained out of sight. This man was toying with her using her blind spots as a way to intimidate.

“I’m not with the resistance. I’m simply commissioned. Sometimes it’s the resistance and sometimes it's The First Order but most times it’s neither. I’m given a job and I perform it.”

“So you admit killing officer Ordell,” the voice derived. A dark figure grew from the corner of her eye until it stood right in front of her. Ice seemed to run through her veins and prick at her heart in the grip of ice-cold fear. In front of her were none other than Kylo Ren. His mask hid every emotion well and his restraint in controlling them made it hard to decipher how he’d react. 

She had heard the whispers and now she believed them. 

“I can feel the hatred radiating off you.” Sol clenched her jaw and tried to control her emotions.

“You must be used to that.”

“This is different. Personal.” Ren leaned in towards her, head crooking to the side, the metal of his mask catching the light. She wondered what kind of face lurked beneath that mask and how beautiful it’d be smashed to bits on the metal floor. Damn right it was personal but she wasn’t about to admit that. He wasn’t even on her list, an honourable mention, but too fucking risky to put on there…. Until now. 

“How often do you run into someone who  _ doesn’t _ hate you....  _ Personally _ ,” Sol asked and straightened her back while enforcing her mental barriers. If he were to get through them and reach into her mind she’d be royally fucked. He’d hold all the cards and she’d be left bare. 

“What exactly do you want? You already know I killed Ordell and I’m sure whoever ratted me out would be more than happy to share whatever else you want to know.” 

“They linked you to two more killings of First Order members.”

“So far I’ve killed seven of your men,” Sol admitted with great annoyance. It must be Deacon that piece of shit. If she got out of this she’d hunt him down and kill him herself. “And I believe, the order has commissioned me to kill 10 resistance allies so if we put it up, your side has commissioned me more. I’m an asset, I’m good at what I do.”

“Evidently not. You were caught and now you’re here trying to weasel your way out of this. A person with allegiance to no one but themselves are the worst of scum.” Sol wanted to retort but bit back the reply. Instead, she stared him down, annoyance and anger pulsing through her. 

“I have information.”

“And I will take that information from you, rip it right out of your head. And then I’ll have you discarded as the worthless trash you are,” he stated matter of factly. 

A pressure snuck into her mind, slowly increasing as it fought to get past her mental barriers. Sol ground her teeth and tried to control her breathing as the pressure rose to a painful amount. Veins began to protrude on her neck and temples, the attempt at keeping him out making her dig her nails into the palm on her hands to the point they broke skin. 

Kylo’s head tilted in a morbidly childish way, the same way she herself did when she was curious of something. “Interesting. You seem to have learned how to shield yourself. It is of course to no avail.”

The pressure clawed at her mind, trying to tear through with violent slashes that felt like an icicle being used as a knife to slash. It was cold and yet it burned. Sol gasped in pain, the need to scream building in her throat yet she wouldn’t let it out. 

Ren inched closer, his tall body seeming to tower over her in a horribly enclosing way. His closeness was intimidating, the way power seeped through every seam of his being. If it had been another situation entirely Sol might have been attracted by that power but as it was she felt nauseous. 

“Let me in,” he spoke almost softly. 

“E-evidently, you’re not very good either it seems,” she poked at him trying to invoke any sort of emotion. The control over his aura cracked with the pulse of anger. Pain bloomed like a terrible flower, thorns sinking into her mind. She screamed in agony. Tears ran free down her cheeks leaving a trail through blood and grime. “You fucking rat bastard!”

“Give me what I want at the pain will be over,” he said with a simplicity that was almost hilarious. She could feel him burn through until there was a crack in the barrier. The memory flashed in her mind, a silent picture of red and flesh and terrible beauty. The ghost of a touch once made turn her stomach. 

“It seems we should add another profession to your list.” 

“Get out of my fucking head!” Sol spat at him pushing against the restraint until she felt them dig into her sink. This pain was of substance, much easier to control and sink into. It grounded her enough to throw up a shield over the crack. 

“My initial objective was to get names but you’ve proven to be a far more interesting character. Who are you, Sol?” When he said her name she flinched. Everyone knew her as S, with only a handful knowing her full first name. Deacon didn’t know it, she was sure of it. 

“Who told you my name?”

“You did.” The smirk was clear in his robotic voice. Another crack in her wall released another image, of death and destruction. Holding a body in her hands as blood poured out of her throat and onto the once green grass. The purest form of fear in her eyes. 

“You’ve known loss and heartbreak. I see it. I see the desperate years lived in fear and humiliation. How you transformed yourself to survive.” The more he dug in the more her mind revealed. She was afraid that if she couldn’t control the flow of her thoughts and memories, the wall might just cave and release an onslaught of everything she wanted to forget. 

So she began to release a stream of her own, patching up the crack and opening a valve of information. Of how she killed Ordell and the other officers and captains, how she killed some of the resistance allies, random thoughts with no substance, in an attempt to keep him out. It was all random, quick and nonsensical. 

“You think you’re so clever!” Ren hissed in rage holding a hand up in front of him. A pressure wrapped around her throat containing her airflow. She gasped and sputtered, panic making her pull at the restraints around her hands, tears stinging her eyes. Black dots began dancing in her line of vision, the edges becoming foggy. 

In pure spite, she forced the image of him strangling her with the force. How it made her pulse rise impossibly high in her head, how her lungs burned with need for air, how her mouth was dry and filled with the taste of blood. She focused on it to a point where he seemed to flinch. 

Sol was abruptly let go. Air rushing into her lungs with a cool soothing touch. She sat there heaving for air while watching him adamantly. “That was…  _ Not _ , the fun kind of strangulation. Ask me on a date first.” 

His mask turn to her with force. Rage rippled from him, pulsing warm and hot. Despite what emotion was behind the mask, Sol was too exhausted to have any fear left, so she definitely looked straight at him. 

Ren was about to approach her again when he stopped and turn his face away from her. The air shifted around him. She frowned, uncertain what was happening. He seemed almost… meek? 

“She’s no one-,” he said confusing her more. “Yes. I will bring her to you.” 

Kylo Ren turned towards her and she flinched back in her seat. The anger around him was barely contained. “The supreme leader would like to see you.” 

Sol paled considerably and this seemed to please him. “Why?”

The restraints sprung open, blood finally able to reach the hands and feet. She remained seated, drawing her hands to her in fear of being once again restrained. Her eyes remained on him, uncertain, surveying. His silence told her he wasn’t sure himself and the way he held himself conveyed a reluctance. 

Two white stormtroopers entered the cell and cuffed her hands in front of her, pinching the sore and broken skin, and forced her to her feet. She was of half a mind to just let them drag her through the ship, letting her feet scrape over the floor, but she was too proud. 

Despite her best efforts to keep up with the heavy-footed giant she stumbled on her weak legs. The troopers were polite enough to push her every time she lost momentum, bringing the difficulty to keep up even higher. 

The room they entered was huge and dark, with a platform going from the door and out into a circle at the middle of the room. The darkness of it seemed alive. It pulsated. 

Sol was pushed the the circular platform, then let go. The white stormtroopers were almost too bright for it. They quickly escaped the darkness, steps fast paced and eager to get the fuck out of here. It made fear wrap around her heart. 

A flicker of the air happened, the atmosphere thickening with thick obscurity that made the hairs on her body once again stand to painful attention. A figure appeared, the hologram first flickering before it solidified. 

“Supreme Leader, I have brought the girl as you asked,” Kylo Ren voiced. He turned towards Sol erupting into a hiss, “On your knees for the Supreme leader.” His gloved hand fell on her shoulder, forcing her to her knees with bruising force. 

Sol tried to wiggle her way out of his grip but found his hands were locked on her shoulder until he was sure she wouldn’t try and get up. The creature leaned forward with a hum in thought, his eyes piercing. 

“It is not often someone is able to keep my apprentice out of their head and none has ever been able to change tactic in the midst of it,” the creature spoke, his voice a vibration that rippled through the room and the humans within it. Ren clenched his fists. “It speaks of training.”

Sol’s mouth ran dry, sweat beading on the back of her neck and running down in tickling lines. 

“Who are you?” The supreme leader asked. 

Ren’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, his force knocking right into her shields, as he growled at her. “The supreme leader asked you a question!” 

“Contain yourself, Kylo Ren, the girl will speak,” the Supreme Leader said calmly, a hand dismissing his apprentice. Ren went rigged, withdrawing reluctantly from Sol who remained on her knees on the cold floor, hands in cuffs in front of her. 

A sharp headache began at her temple. Her jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists. For a moment she thought about springing to her feet and gripping Ren’s lightsaber but the efforts weren’t worth the consequences, she’d be dead before she even got her hands on it. And even if she got so far, she’d never make it out of the ship. The pressure increased and Sol wanted to double over and throw up. 

“I’m an assassin known as S, that is all,” her voice wavered, words forced out through gritted teeth. 

“That is not all you are,” the Supreme Leader replied. Sol felt her heart sink in her chest. Her dark eyes shot to the creature, wide and panicked. How? He hadn’t broken through her defences, not that she knew of, and yet he knew the one thing she didn’t want anyone to know. 

“It is,” Sol stated firmly. “What do you want from me?” 

“You’re quite the pawn to have. It’d be a waste to sacrifice someone with such potential as you. With the right conditions, you could become quite powerful and more importantly, you can influence someone else to reach much further heights than previously anticipated… or ruin him completely,” The supreme leader said, leaning back in thought. A sour taste returned to her mouth, a chill running down her spine. She wasn’t going to like where this was going. “Do you not feel it, young apprentice?” The supreme leader didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “This girl can bring you power, she can complete you…. Or destroy you… So what shall we do with her?” 

“How can she bring me power, she is just some girl,” Ren asked his master, a flicker of desperation in his modified voice. 

“You will marry her, of course,” the Supreme Leader answered with such nonchalance that both Ren and Sol blinked at him in confusion. 

“But she’s a mere assassin with no further infinity for the force? How can she bring me any sort of completion! She’s no one!”

“Do you still not sense it, Apprentice? Look at her, at her hair, her eyes, her training, look past her barrier,” The supreme leader scolded. “What do you know of the Ori?”

“They are a people of warriors.”

“The nobles raised against the royals and killed them all, or so it seemed,” the Supreme Leader continued. “King Vox is one of our allies, but his conviction to us are wavering.”

Sol felt like she was drowning, like the water pressed in on her from all sides until she could keep her breath no longer and let it out in a rugged whoosh of air. Her whole body had begun to shake from fear and exhaustion and the terrible, terrible memories that threatened to play in her mind.

“Princess.” Ren finished. 

“Sol Ossa, third princess of Ori,” the Supreme Leader continued. Tears stung in her eyes. 

“I am not-,” Sol began. “I’m not a princess any longer. I am just an assassin for hire, nothing more, nothing less.”

“But you  _ are _ still princess, it is in your blood. Blood is not something you can outrun. You will always have a claim to the throne of Ori.” The creature turned to his apprentice. “The Orian are a people of honour. They have an unwavering connection to the force and those they have been blood bound to. You will marry Sol Ossa, you will be bound by blood and the force, and in doing so we will also ensure the new king will comply with our agreement.” 

“Yes, Master,” Kylo Ren agreed. The reluctance radiated from him, targeted at the quivering princess still sitting on her knees on the floor. Ren turned towards her and she blinked up at him, mind racing faster than the speed of light, trying to come up with the conclusion the two men had already put forth. 

She couldn’t believe it and in that she said; “You’re getting married? Poor girl.” 

“We’re getting married,” Ren spat out her. Even if she couldn’t see his face, she knew it must be distorted in anger and in the belief that she was completely and utterly stupid in not understanding that they were both in the same situation. 

And when it finally clicked, it wasn’t fear that flooded her system, it was anger and spite. Sol pushed up from the floor, knees creaking after being locked in the same position for a while. Ren moved but didn’t stop her. 

“An Orian can’t be married without the ceremony of wills and a princess even less so. The Orian will never accept a marriage if the ceremony isn’t completed.  _ I _ can’t and will not accept a proposal without it.” Her voice did not once quiver, it remained strong and hard. It was as if her spine had turned to iron, she had switched so easily into the traditions of the Orian, become so easily a princess once again in her own right. 

Sol had become someone of worth and as someone of worth, she had demands and negotiations to make. 

“Of course you will have your ceremony of wills,” the Supreme Leader complied, a grim smirk on his deformed face. 

“And when I kill your apprentice you will let me go, alive and well, with no repercussions,” Sol continued. 

The supreme leaders' smirk grew. “ _ If _ you kill my apprentice he’d have proved not deserving of the title.” Rage burned from Ren. “You will be let go, alive and well, with no repercussions.” 

“But when my apprentice wins you will take up the mantle of wife, you will become our pawn to use,” The supreme leader finished. 

Behind her, the doors opened and two stormtroopers came in, taking Sol by the arm and leading her out of the suffocating room. She could feel Ren’s anger burn behind her, almost so focused that it could have left her skin marked by it. Inside her, a storm had begun to brew, her mind trying to come up with some sort of escape while her body began to break down from exhaustion. 

The stormtroopers didn’t lead her back to the cell and instead guided her into a room that must have been for an officer. They left her there alone, letting the cold creep along the floor and wrap around her feet. 

The bed was soft to the touch, sheets not silk but not scratchy either. There was no windows to the outside world, only bare grey walls. Other than the bed there was a small table with chairs, a sofa with a table and two doors, one leading to the bathroom and one to the wardrobe. It was completely bare and cold. 

Then she noticed two trunks in a corner and her heart skipped a beat. Those were her trunks. Sol ran towards them and flung one lid open, finding her clothing and a few hairpieces and jewellery, but no weapons, no jewellery that contained hidden weapons, nothing useful. She almost wanted to cry. 

The door opened and in came a droid. “Hello, I am T-8. I am here to look at your wounds.” The droid waved a hand. 

“I’m fine,” Sol answered the droid and got up from the floor. 

“You are not fine. I detect multiple lacerations to your body and possible internal injuries.” T-8 guided her towards the chair, where it crouched down and began to inspect her face. It didn’t take long for the droid to patch up her face, but when it asked her if she wanted something for the pain, she adamantly said no, so it continued its work until all open wounds were closed. 

“Can you tell me where we are?”

“We are in your quarters, Lady Sol.”

“I mean, where in the galaxy.”

“I am afraid I am not allowed to disclose that, my lady.” The droid headed towards the door, then turned around and bowed to her. “Is there anything else you might need, my lady?”

It wasn’t likely she’d get more information out of the droid. Most of what she wanted to know, it’d not be able to say. So instead, she dismissed it. 

Sol walked to the bed and wrapped herself its warmth, uncaring that she was dirty and sticky. She just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake up in her own tiny apartment. It felt as if every cell in her body was exhausted beyond belief. If she were going to win the ceremony and kill Kylo Ren she’d need all the sleep she could get. 

Sleep plagued with nightmares didn’t come long after. 

While Sol slept, Kylo Ren prepared himself by destroying two control rooms, much to the general's displeasure. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and upload every Saturday but I can't promise anything. 
> 
> All of your comments really pushed me and inspired me to keep writing, so please, even if it is to yell or just say you like it, please drop a comment. 
> 
> Preview for next chapter is: A gruelling fight ensures.


	3. The Ceremony of Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Sol fight for their future. Hux is a bitch. Introduction to a knight of ren.

The swelling had subsided but not gone completely. Whatever the medical procedure the droid had done, it had done a good job at healing her up in no time. All her lacerations were healed, leaving a flaming scar behind that would slowly lose colour with time. The bruises that should have been dark were at their last green and yellow stage. 

Sol had washed the grime and dirt from her skin the moment she got up and was then told that she had an hour to ready herself for the ceremony. 

In Ori tradition, she’d wear a light outfit with layers of fabric, all of them hand-stitched and embroidered beautifully. She’d wear an elegant headpiece of gold or silver and her skin would be ordained by carefully crafted makeup. The family would help ready her and stand by her side while she fought for her own hand. 

Tradition would have to be broken.

Instead, she wore more an outfit of black, something easy to move in. Her hair was tied up in a bun, with the silver pin that had survived both her capture and torture. Sol painted her upper lip blue according to tradition, the peaks of her lip silver. 

Stormtroopers, officers and other First Order men looked at her with a mixture of dislike and curiosity. She disregarded them fully. 

The troopers escorting her lead to what she guessed was a training room given the mats making out most of the floor. From what it seemed, this whole ship was clean-cut and steril, with no form of personality. Ori was far opposite, with a multitude of colour. 

Her escorts positioned themselves by the door, while she ventured further into the room under the heavy eye of top first order officials. A tall lanky one with red hair and a sour expression on his face stood beside a chrome stormtrooper, seemingly talking with each other. Beside the two was a few more officials, ranked high by the medals they wore and the grim frown on their faces. 

And then there was the one single person that stood out, a woman in matching grey with the others, hair dark and free, with coloured fabrics braided into the few braids there were. Around her eyes were the colour of blue and silver, lips painted a dark purple and two circles of matching blue on her cheeks that told that she was the priestess to observe and if the misfortune would happen, marry Sol to the masked beast. 

Heavy footsteps matched in from the door. The air charged with negativity, hatred and disdain knitting together like a thunderstorm. He didn’t get to be the one the most angry. Sol’s eyes landed on him, glaring sharply. If only a look could kill.

“You are late for your own wedding,” The redhead officer remarked. 

“It is not a wedding yet,” Sol bit back, needing to make the distinction of the ceremony of wills and a wedding clear. “I haven't accepted his proposal and with the will of my ancestors I won't have to.” 

“If only you would kill Ren. It would make my life a whole lot easier when I don’t have to clean up his messes,” the ginger said under his breath to the crome soldier. It was loud enough for everyone to hear, but not enough to earn a rebuttal. The ginger turned to the priestess. “You may being so we can get this over with.” 

The woman stepped forth. “We are here to observe the ceremony of wills, where strength decides the outcome. Should Commander Ren be the champion, he can claim the hand of the third princess of Ori, Sol Ossa, as his rightful wife. Should the princess win, she will decide if the commander fought bravely and honourably enough to live or still give her hand in marriage… Or she may decide that death is the only honourable option.”

During the priestess speech of the rules, neither Ren or Sol broke the eye contact. They remained glaring at each other, fuming with disdain and anticipation. Sol could feel her pulse rise, her skin rippling with electricity and the prospect of giving back an inch of the pain he had put her through. 

“Commander Ren, you may choose a weapon,” the priestess said, hand guiding the attention towards a selection of traditional weapons. “You may not use your lightsaber nor the force in this fight.”

Ren moved, heavy-footed and all power. The selection was quick and ended in a long double-edged sword. The priestess gave him a traditional dagger to keep on his person. Ren stuffed it in his belt and came to stand upon the mat again, mere paces from Sol. 

“Princess, without your legacy sword you may also choose a weapon from the selection.” 

Sol walked to the wall of selection and made quick work of choosing. The single-edged sword fitted well into her hands. She was given a dagger just as Ren but she wasn’t so easily dismissing the blade and instead strapped it to the side of her thigh. Easy to each. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Both of them answered, one voice distorted and the other with a slight tremor. The priestess stepped back and threw up the lightest of ribbons. The silver ribbon hovered in the air for a moment, then slowly fell to the floor. 

As soon as it landed the fight started. 

Kylo Ren was pure power and muscle. There was no galavanting, it was direct assault with little defence and all offence. His steps were heavy as if he had magnets in his shoes that forced his feet to be planted harshly on the floor. Sol’s steps were lighter, a dance with sharp flair that’d snip at anything in its way. She moved like water, if she couldn’t get through something, she’d move around. 

When his sword clashed with hers it reverberated all the way up through her arms, threatening to make her teeth raddle together. She sideswiped his sword and blocked the next few blows until she got his rhythm. Clearly, he favoured long overhand swipes but wasn’t opposed to switching it up. 

Sol deflected once more and rolled to the side, quickly getting to her feet and swinging her blade so that it scraped over his helmet, small sparks igniting on impact. 

They both glared at each other, breathing hard and waiting for one to make a move. A small almost invisible line had been drawn over his helmet, from above his left eye and down over where his nose should be and ended low on his jaw. If the helmet hadn’t been there to guard him, she would have drawn a red line of blood over his nose but missing everywhere else. The notion that she could actually have hurt him fueled his rage. 

Ren attacked first, bringing his sword down hard enough to knock her blade back. He backhanded her across the face and kicked at her chest, sending her colliding with the wall, head banging back against the steel and for sure this time making her teeth raddle. 

The pain crashed into her, nose bleeding but not broken, head spinning and breath knocked out of her. His blade dug into her shoulder only held back by her own sword and the wall behind her. 

Ren stepped closer, trying to force the blade further into her shoulder but was kicked back by a foot landing solidly on his chest bone, the air wheezing out of him audibly enough to be heard through his mask. Sol pushed herself from the wall and cut into Ren's leg, only to narrowly avoided his blade and then cut all along his shoulder blade, the fabric of his dark clothing parting. 

They returned to standing a few paces from each other, both bleeding and heaving for breath. His sword had definitely cut into muscle but the pain of it was dulled by adrenalin and the mere sight of _him bleeding._

Sol went on the offence. With a loud moan of effort, she managed to avoid his defence and break right through, sword digging a few inches into his side, only held back by a leathery hand stopping it from travelling any further. With slight panic she looked up into his crud mask, attempting to force the blade further in to no avail. 

Ren slowly pulled the sword out, tip red with his blood and quivering with the effort of the two trying to force the blade one way or the other. Sol yelled. Ren twisted the blade out of her hands, throwing it across the mat and then threw Sol back. 

The assassin tumbled around and managed to make it onto the tips of her feet, hands holding her up. The distance between her and the sword was too great and with Ren in between them going for it wasn’t an option. 

He swung again, the tip of his sword slashing right across her back. She could feel the blood run down the stretch of her it, blood and sweat mixing into a sticky substance. The next cut was on her tight, then her arm and lastly a kick to her ribs. Fatigue had begun to slow her movements upon the loss of blood and exhaustion from the previous days. 

“Did you really think you could win?” Ren asked with a hiss. 

“We aren’t done yet, are we?” Sol answered back with just as much a hiss, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at his feet. 

Ren stalked towards her intent on finishing this once and for all.

The Orian was incredibly good at sword fighting, any form of fighting, but even better at hand to hand combat. Wanting to give everything she had left, Sol evaded the blade and brought her knee to Ren’s guts, where she then unsheathe the dagger and cut just above his knee and then swung around to stab him in the ribs. Her wrist was stopped by a leathery hand, twisted around and pulled towards him. The sheer force and brutality of it shattered something in it and she let out a cry of pain. 

Sol was swung around so that her back was to his chest, one hand still wrapped around her broken wrist, while he brought his other arm around her, the size of it huge and clad in dark heavy fabric. His sword was placed at her throat, ending the fight in her defeat. 

At that moment she felt nothing. Not the physical pain or the mental pain she thought she’d get hit with should she fail. Instead, in the midst of the nothingness, there was a sort of feeling of being impressed. Kylo Ren had defeated her and for that, he had earned respect. 

“This could have gone so much easier,” Ren commented lowly in her ear.

“Had it gone easier people would have thought we wanted to marry,” Sol answered back, hitting him in his chest the moment he let go. Despite him bleeding he made no show of being hurt, not in the slightest, while Sol held her wrist to her chest and limped when she walked. 

“The will of the ancestors and the force has chosen. Commander Ren is the victor and claim the princesses hand in marriage,” The priestess voiced aloud, stepping forth towards the two bleeding fighters with a satisfied smile on her lips. “Give me your hand, Commander. “

Ren reluctantly complied, holding out his hand for the priestess to take. She removed his glove and rolled up his sleeve to cut two lines into his flesh, one in his palm and one above the wrist. The same was done to Sol, her arm already streaked with blood. Just for a fraction of a second, she winced at the blad, then fell into a frown. The wince was only observed by Ren, the only one who didn’t look at the blade and where it drew a line. 

“By swords, you are brought together, by blood you are bound, by the ceremony your souls shall forever be entwined,” the priestess chanted bringing his palm to the wound above her wrist and then hers to his. The weight of his hand was heavy, the fingers easily wrapping around the small expanse of her arm. She suddenly felt so small. Her fingers couldn’t even touch when she wrapped her hand around his arm. 

Despite her best effort to remain stoic tears began to well up in her eyes, stinging the skin on her cheeks as they flowed over. Pain began to bloom around her body, the adrenaline wearing off. She was alone now, tied to this beast of a man until either of them die. 

“Both of you have displayed great honour and strength, and I hope in this marriage you will find both.” A red cloth was wrapped around the two symboling tying their fates together. 

And just like tying a knot, the two had been married. It was over. 

Sol was the first to pull away, forcing the knot lose enough to slip her hand out of it. She used the ribbon to stop the bleeding of her palm. Ren merely pulled his sleeve down and put on his gove as if he wasn’t even wounded. They looked at each other pointedly. 

“Let me be the first to congratulate you on your marriage,” a sly voice said. Both turned to the general, one less happy than the other. The general had a smile on his lips and something told her he didn’t smile often. 

“What a wonderful ceremony, very... _brutal,_ ” he continued. The way he said ‘brutal’ was very clearly meant to mean ‘uncivilized’. Sol already hated him. “For a moment I thought she had you there, Ren.”

“I’m sure you thought so little of me,” Ren replied with just as much disdain as Sol felt. It was good to know that there was friction between the two. It could be useful. The general turned to her, cold blue eyes running over her form, looking for any weakness she assumed. 

“I believe the most important tradition for us is the bedding. The wedding night solidifies the marriage.” the general smirked, while a chill ran down Sol’s spine. She kept her mask of indifference, refusing to give that shit-eating smirk an inch of the panic she felt. “The Orian might not put much into that, given the ritual they go through just for the marriage. How can one perform well after such a show?” 

“I’m aware of the importance of the wedding night, general,” Sol answered cooly. “As for the performance that is of none of your concern and with the display of strength needed to get through both the ceremony and the wedding night, I am sure wouldn't know.”

His smirk became stiff. “Am I to call you Princess or Lady Ren?”

“Lady Sol will suffice.” Sol placed her wrapped hand on the open wound on her shoulder, wincing at the pain but remained otherwise unbothered. The general frowned. 

“You’ve got much to learn in regards to The First Order and how it works,” The general continued. 

“It works exactly like everywhere else, I am sure,” Sol responded. “If you will excuse me, General, I am bleeding and in need of a shower, I will have your troopers show me the way to the hospital wing.” 

She didn’t wait for a response. Despite the wounds on her body, she forced her face into a cold mask of indifference, holding back the need to limp and bit her cheek to keep from making any noise. The emotions whirled inside of her, bubbled up underneath her skin and threatened to erupt like a volcano. 

* * *

Kylo and General Hux watched as she left. Kylo noted the effort she made to hold down the pain, to separate herself from the emotions that threatened to crash into her. She tried to keep her feelings down, he could feel it in her, the way she swallowed them and tried to lock them away in her chest. She didn’t want him to know. But he did. 

“You’ll have a hard time controlling that one,” Hux commented with a sneer. “I would enjoy your misery were it not because it would undoubtedly turn into a problem for me.”

Kylo turned to Hux in annoyance, looking over the pale ginger the same way one would look at an irritating bug. “The Supreme Leader made this decision, General, are you implying it was wrong?”

“No, all I’m concerned about is your ability to control the girl,” Hux replied swiftly. He was a smug asshole that constantly made Kylo want to run him through with his saber and smirk at the pale fucking face looking at him in surprise. But Hux had his own uses and The Supreme Leader wouldn’t be very pleased with him if he did do it. 

“Are you afraid she’d take up killing more of your officers? Apparently _they_ weren’t well trained enough to survive her.” 

Hux’s face turned red with anger, the smugness gone and replaced with pride, but before the general could make any sort of rebuttal, one of his officers came over to draw him away. 

Kylo decided to walk back to his quarters, only stopping outside the training room at the sight of the bloody handprint left on the wall. It was almost like a memory, a flash of a picture. The girl's leg had given out. She had used the wall as a balancing tool, leaving her bloody print on it. Exhaustion lingered in the print, anger clung to the blood, a residual effect left in the air.

The first thing he did entering his room was to remove his helmet. It was placed with a loud thump on his table. He twisted it to look at him and noted the thin, almost invisible line that was drawn across the visor. Anger build up in his chest. 

This assassin girl had managed to get close enough to almost take off his nose. With a low grumble, he looked down at himself, looked at the rift on his thighs and the deep cut just above his knee. He felt the searing of his forearm and palm, but what hurt the most was the deep wound in his side. The tunic and undershirt were removed, thrown to the side to be mended or replaced. 

In the mirror, it was easy to see just how much damage she had done. There were small cuts up his arms, some no bigger than a paper cut, while the wound on his lower half was deep and dark red with blood. Kylo touched the tender skin around the wound and let out a breath. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little impressed. 

The girl was a whirlwind. Her emotions were loud, louder than most, always screaming. If he closed his eyes he’d be able to pinpoint exactly where she was at the moment. It was one of the reasons he disliked her so much. The mere lack of control over her emotions. It had been clear from the first moment he stepped into the room, that she had some force sensitivity, to what extent he wasn't sure but he’d find out. 

Kylo closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting his frustration, anger and hatred pour into him, burn through him until the tiny medical droid mended his wounds. 

“Did she pose a challenge?” Eon asked after being allowed in. Kylo regarded the man, the tendrils of his force scraping over the consciousness of his knight. Eon remained unphased, distant from his thoughts and emotions. 

“No,” Kylo answered cooly, washing the remaining blood off his skin with a cloth.

“Is that why you’re drying blood off of you?” Eon remarked testing his master's patience. 

“The girl wasn’t unskilled,” Kylo conceded, thoughts going back to the moment her sword scraped over his helmet and when she managed to stab him. He shook his head, long hair falling into his eyes. “She was rusty and desperate. Her emotions got the best of her.”

“The Orian fight with their emotions, rather than hold them down.” Though Eon was wearing a mask, Kylo could see right past it, his eyes scrutinizing his knight and measuring every micro expression to pass over his face, pass through the flicker of emotion. 

Kylo was now right in front of the knight, staring down at him, his force a whirlwind around them threatening to press in. “Is she going to be a problem for you?”

“No.” The knight submitted to his master.

“Then you wouldn’t mind guarding her.”

“Is this a test?” The question was all too familiar. It conquered up painful memories, made his anger boil over, burn through his chest until he was sure he really was in flames. He had asked his master that more than once, and the answer always remained the same. “ _Everything is a test_.”

The knight of Ren bowed to his master, then left the room, letting Kylo remain seething in his anger.

If the stormtroopers had killed her immediately, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He wouldn’t be married to some dethroned princess who by all accounts was childish, spiteful and selfish. He would be able to focus on finding Skywalker, instead, he was tasked with disciplining this girl, to forge her into a pawn he didn’t want or need. 

He didn’t understand why Snoke let her live. If the new king of Ori was a problem there were other solutions than marriage. His master hadn’t explained to him what made the girl so special or why she was important other than this strange ‘completion’. How in the force would this stupid girl ever complete him, she was useless and aggravating in her mere presence. But one thing Kylo had learned long ago was not to further question the Supreme Leader’s decisions. 

No, he wouldn’t question it further, but that didn’t mean he’d so wittingly comply. 

Kylo pressed a button on the datapad to send out a voice message to his soldiers. “Gear up, we’ll be leaving in 15 minutes.” 

The last thing Kylo did before leaving was putting the mask back on. He’d leave this blasted ship to find any sort of trouble, anything he could let his anger out on. 

It was in the cockpit of the ship he felt it, rippling through the force that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. An onslaught of emotion. A cry of sorrow and desperation. Acceptance. 

* * *

“Oh dear, oh dear!” T-8 voiced surprised at Sol’s pale and bloody appearance. The droid swarmed to her, quickly guiding her up on the examination table. “I detect a multitude of injuries, lacerations, bend ribs, fractured wrist, hairline fracture and damage to the muscle.”

“Yes, yes,” Sol waved at the droid with her good hand. “I’m aware of my injuries, would you just fix them?”

“You must be in so much pain,” the droid said with robotic concern. Its metal fingers went to take a syringe. Sol stopped the droid before it could inject the painkiller.

“I do not want any pain medicine.”

“But, my lady, you’re in pain and it’ll only worsen as I heal you.”

“ _I don’t want it,_ ” Sol said through grounded teeth. The droid blinked at her, or at least it seemed like it did, while it tried to process what to do when the subject wouldn’t comply. If a droid could huff, that is what it would have done, before beginning to mend the biggest wound on her shoulder. 

Sol swallowed the pain along with all of her other emotions, trying to imprison them in her chest, to lock them away into her heart. The pain was easy to comprehend, easier still to react to. Tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her thighs as she sat with her back to the droid. The smell of burning flesh lingered in her nostrils as the wound was mended together. 

The droid placed a strange sort of fabric or plastic over the now scared wound, small tubes running from its middle to an even stranger machine. It was to heal the wound faster, the water activating rejuvenation. Such a thing was placed over each wound, healing them up nicely, leaving only a thin scarring. 

The wrist required an entirely other sort of device, this one round with multiple needles within. This procedure was also the hardest to sit through, it felt as if her wrist was broken over and over again until it was healed completely. 

“I never thought so many curse words existed,” the droid remarked. 

“There are curse words in every language, it's the first you learn,” Sol answered, breathing deeply. The droid finished mending the wound on her palm and went to get the rejuvenation device. “Leave this scar.”

“Why?”

“As a reminder.”

When the droid decided that she was healed enough to return to her quarters, after much negotiation and a few threats from her side, she did so, lead by a few stormtroopers. That wouldn’t change much. They’d follow her around like guard dogs, watchers, spies, until she was deemed trustworthy. She was sure of it.

Her quarters remained the same, if not more filled with her clothing and trinkets. Did Kylo send for them? No, it was most likely the Supreme Leader, but why? Her fingers brushed the lush fabric of her favourite robe. Blood visual under her fingernails. 

She was married now and this must be one of the perks. If she were allowed she’d spend all of Ren’s money on various materialistic impulses, and maybe if he could play nice, would she get him something else to wear than black? She’d bleed him dry if she could. 

The overwhelming urge to cry washed over her. Sol stripped down, tossing her ruined clothe to the side with frustration and walked to the large tub in the refresher. The water was searing hot, it stung and burned at her skin as she sank down into it, leaning her head back against the edge while tears ran over her cheeks. It had been so long since she had cried as much as she now had done within the span of a few days. 

Every emotion tore itself loose from their cages and ripped their way to the surface, destroying any restraint left in her. She had been tortured, her mind invaded, wounded and married off to a beast of a man. Did he even have any emotion other than anger? Properly not. 

And she was to be his wife, with all it entails. 

Sol sank beneath the surface of the water her pale hair floating out around her. All the feelings erupted out of her with a throat tearing scream muffled by the water. Bubbles rushed to the surface and let out the faintest of sounds. Water had the effect of containment, a promise that if you yelled just enough you wouldn’t ever have to yell again. Water changed, it released and it most of all adapted. _You, of all my children, are the most like water._ The voice of her mother sounded. 

The pressure raised around her and with a gasp for breath she crashed through the surface. 

She knew what to do. Now that she had allowed herself to release all that she held back, she was able to think clearly. 

The Supreme Leader wanted her to be Ren’s wife, she’d play that part with as much spite as she could. She’d snap up whispers and rumours and turn this place into something familiar. A pawn is what they wanted her to be, a pawn she’d make herself, a pawn that’d hold enough power to survive _and_ get what she wanted. And she was going to have fucking fun while doing it.

It was the same game just a different scene.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to those who actually leave comments! I live for you. The next few chapters might take longer to write since they're generally longer too, but I'll try my best to keep up schedule. 
> 
> And if you have any questions or theories or observations you're VERY WELCOME to talk to me about them, either here or on Tumblr where you can find me at @zeciex (it's a multi-fandom blog.) 
> 
> I also want to know what you think about Sol and Kylo's characteristics since I'm having a hard time fully pinning them down. 
> 
> Preview of next chapter: Sol makes a scene with the help of one ginger general to get the attention of her husband.


	4. Up to No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol begins scheming and Hux is an asshole

Sol waited in bed, wrapped in her favourite silk robe, green with a multitude of embroidered colours on it, cranes flying over the skies, dragonflies resting on leaves, fish swimming. It brought her some comfort as she waited, but the more time that passed the less comfort she got from it and the bigger the churning in her stomach grew. 

He didn’t come. 

And it gave her a sort of strange mix of relief and dread. The dread came from the fact that she had readied herself. She was a professional after all. For 4 years she’d stayed with the red lady at the crimson brothel and there she had learned the ways of seduction and sex, and though she wanted nothing more than to have a choice in who she slept with, she also wasn’t afraid to use what she had learned to get what she wanted. 

It was a paradox that ended in having a choice or not. 

And now that she choose to sleep with that bastard of a husband, he managed to take it away and by doing so weaken her resolve. 

For 3 days she spends in the room, slowly but surely dwindling into madness through boredom. Her clothing had been sorted and stored away, her jewellery inspected and placed by the vanity along with the colour sorted makeup. All of this took far less time than she wanted. 

And in the end, on the 3rd day, she decided that  _ he _ wasn’t going to keep her locked up like some prisoner and that  _ she _ wouldn’t be so easily swatted away.

It was simple. If she was going to further empower herself she needed Ren. He didn’t have to like her and she was certainly not going to like him, but still, there were dependence on him. Whether it would be negative or positive was to be seen. It would most certainly be negative. 

If she were to build anything out of this she needed to scope him out. It was like planing a job, knowing how one person thought and how they’d react was always a key part. This job was all the more difficult, however. Regardless of the dependence of him, she also just wanted to annoy the shit out of the man who dug through her head like he was mining for crystals. 

If Kylo Ren weren’t going to meet her face on, she’d have to get creative. 

Sol had dressed for war. No, not as in actual war. She had dressed in a menagerie of colours, hair falling around her shoulders in controlled waves, an intricate piece of jewellery atop her head, branching out in florals of silver. Her makeup matched. 

This place was so controlled and strict, she’d create a little chaos just by being. 

When she opened the door and stepped out she found that she was no longer guarded by stormtroopers but instead a person dressed in dark clothing that matched that of Kylo Ren to some degree. His mask, however, told her with certainty that  _ this _ person was a Knight of Ren, with the heavy savagery of it, the metal lines crossing black metal. The curves seemed reminiscent of traditional Ori or something the like. At his side was a long thin sword. Just by glancing at it she knew it’d have a plasma edge so it could be used against lightsabers. 

The two looked each other over, judging. 

“Who are you?” 

“Eon Ren, Lady Ren,” he answered with little emotion through the mask. Sol regarded him again, pointedly. 

“Am I too dangerous for the usual stormtrooper?”

“You do have a reputation,” Eon answered. A smirk began to curl on her lips. “And you are the Lady Ren, Master Ren thought it best that one of his knights were to guard you. For your safety.”

“I’m sure,” Sol said sourly. So Ren thought it best that  _ his _ knights were to guard her, that spoke of three things. He didn’t trust the stormtroopers to keep her ‘safe’, as they reported to someone else, and he didn’t trust  _ her _ not to make a run for it, and he still wanted to keep an eye on her every move. A spy. 

Should she be flattered he had a minuscule of suspicious interest in her?

The Orian wouldn’t run from their marriages, it was integrated into them, and if they did they’d never be able to shed the bonds of marriage anyway. She wasn't going to run, what she was going to, however, was to wreck as much havoc as she could within her control. 

“Are you going to keep me from leaving my room?”

“No.” 

“Good.”

It was at the main hangar Sol met General Hux again. She had been observing the comings and goings of ships flying out of the hangar through the thick glass wall that cancel out the noise from the workings within. 

“Lady Ren,” his voice greeted, a quirk to his red eyebrow and a sharpness of his blue eyes. If it weren’t because she expected the minor poke at her title, she’d have soured considerably. Instead, she smiled politely at him. 

“General,” she greeted.

“Thinking about ways of escape?”

“No, not at all,” Sol answered. Escaping wasn’t the problem it was being found that was. Even if she made a surprising escape Kylo Ren and the Supreme Leader would find her again, she was on their radar. That wasn’t to say that she wouldn’t at one point take the liberty to disappear to solve some of her own resolutions. No, being here and watching the deck was merely to collect information. “I am trying to find my way around, as marvellous it is, it is quite the maze.”

“It takes some time figuring it all out but I’ll be more than happy to show you around, Lady Ren,” Hux offered with a sly look over her shoulder to the knight of Ren that made no move to intervene. 

“That would be lovely.” Sol took the offer with a sickeningly sweet tone that both of them knew was only for courteous show. Growing up in a palace as the 3rd princess meant that she knew how to carry herself, especially under threat, while also having more reign to live as she wanted by not being directly in line to the throne. She was brought up with the sight set on becoming an ambassador or being married away for political gain by the royal family, and while it wasn’t what she wanted then -and now, it was what was given to her. And so she’d make damn sure to use it as well as she could and gain more power. 

They began their tour, Sol being a stark contrast to all the black, white and grey. Eyes followed her for the mere difference she was to the well suited general beside her, then the eyes turned to quick curiosity and then upon realising who she was and the presence of the general and a knight of ren, then they quickly scurried away. 

“What do you think of my new husband?” Sol questioned the general, a small smile remaining politely on her lips. 

Hux quirked a brow at her, debating whether, to tell the truth, or give her diluted version. “Commander Ren is a formidable fighter as you may know. He’s very... _ passionate _ in the search for Skywalker. The Supreme Leader trusts him.”

With each compliment edged out as if it were dripping with poison, Sol understood that the two were in constant turmoil, that they in their very principles disdained each other with a passion. Still there remained the same courteous formality that forced both of them to remain more or less civil, with pride and spite being their shared emotion. Pride, such a fragile thing. 

“But…” Sol coaxed on. 

Hux breathed in through his nostrils and folded his hands behind his perfectly straightened back. “Ren is a child. Any minor inconvenience or disturbance to his plans and he flies into a rage. He lacks any and all self control. And where I keep The First Order from descending into chaos, he does what he wants when he wants, with no disregard for order or the bigger picture. He’s a perpetual child.”

_ You’re both children _ , Sol thought,  _ both throwing a tantrum when things don't go your way.  _ The general gave the impression that pride, respect and order were the building stones of his very being, and anything but were disruptive and disrespectful. What she had to give him was, as much as he seemed a coward, he was also a certain kind of brave, talking shit about someone's master right in front of them. Eon, however, seemed totally unphased. 

“You may already have gotten this impression,” Hux finished.    
“Oh, I got an impression,” Sol agreed, a sneaky smile formed on her face. “And how would you suggest dealing with my husband?” 

“I suppose there is no ‘dealing’ with him. All you can do is be a  _ proper _ wife,” Hux said, his voice gaining a superior intensity. He had stopped in front of the big doors leading to the bridge. The blue eyes ran icily over the colourful newlywed woman, regarding her. “A wife should be seen, rarely heard. She should be charming, yes, but not attention seeking. A wife should be accommodating to the needs of her husband.”

As the general spoke, Sol’s brows furrowed at the image his words conjured. On Ori men and women were equal, especially in marriage,  _ especially in the royal house _ . While there were some gender roles they certainly weren’t edged out like the ones Hux described, except a select few who adopted foreign ways. She wasn’t sure whether Ori was more advanced than the rest of the galaxy or that they were simply the strange ones with their ways. The former, she believed. 

“Is that to be my role now, the only thing I live for is my husbands' needs?” Her tone was sweet but poison and Hux knew it. 

“You may find this aspect displeasing, Lady Ren, but it is the burden all women must bear.” Hux gained a sharpness of his eyes, the air around him becoming pointy with the prestige he held himself as. Someone who strives for utter perfection, who wishes excellence and above all else had as tall a pride as general Hux had must be someone feeling incredibly inferior. “I would have believed someone with the training you have in…  _ pleasing _ , would have made marriage to you at least pleasant in that aspect but as I understood it, Commander Ren didn’t spend his wedding night with you and only just returned today.”

An ice cold anger rose in Sol’s chest, along with pangs of fear and the threat of memories pouring into her head, playing behind her eyelids. This ginger bastard has been busy as a bee digging in her past. _He knew_ , and he was using it against her along with with the fact that the most important ceremony in _his_ _civilised eyes_ and the eyes of the galaxy.

“It’s a shame,” Hux continued, pale hand reaching out and taking a piece of hair between his fingers. “You are quite lovely, if not uncultivated.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be so certain of my standing and with those previous occupations of yours, standing is all you have now.”

“You speak as if you know something about being with or without standing.” There was a slight eye twitch, something so minimal she wouldn’t have caught it if she were anyone else. Hux leaned back and plastered the familiar fake smile upon his face again as the doors swung open.

Hux showed her the bridge where multiple people were working at all hours, with the hustle and bustle of an office, except far more dangerous. Everything ran like a well greased machine that even managed to impress Sol. The general was pleased with her reaction and took the opportunity to ask a question himself. 

“How did you come to be captured?”

Sol paused and stared at him. “You should know, you’re the one who captured me.” 

“We received an anonymous tip,” Hux explained, guiding her towards the elevator. So the order didn’t know who sold her out. It was properly still Deacon, that bastard wanted her gone. 

“I find it suspicious that one day out of nowhere we get a tip that leads us towards not only the assassin who’s killed some of my best men but also the long lost princess of a planet that is fundamental for our planes.” Skepticism weaved its way into his voice. The tense atmosphere they had stiffened further. Sol looked wearily at the general. 

“Are you suggesting that I was the one to tip you off?” 

“You had dealings with the rebels. They could have recruited you.”

“To turn myself in, to be tortured and forced to marry a walking temper tantrum?” Sol scoffed, astonished by the preposterous idea. “You’re giving me too much credit,” Sol added venomously. 

“The rebels are desperate,” Hux stated as if it the only thing needed for this to make sense. “The marriage was merely luck.” 

“So, I would turn myself in, be tortured for information that I don’t have, under the suspicion that I’m a rebel spy, who would later somehow manage to escape and send back some information to the resistance? Your logic is flawed, General.” Sol laid out, trying to find heads and tails in this accusation. On some level, it worked. If they had accepted her offer to work for them, she’d be in a position to send back information. But that wasn’t an option, at all. If Kylo Ren hasn't come in to interrogate her, she’d most likely had been killed. The risks were too high and the reward too low. 

“You have a history with the rebels.”

“I have a history with The First Order too.”

“You could have used your royal blood as a bargaining tool, to position yourself where you are now... As a wife of Commander Ren, you’d be in the perfect position to be a rebel spy. While we secure Ori through marriage, you regain some of your lost power. And from your background you’ve managed to go quite a long way,” Hux continued, increasingly annoyed by Sol’s answers. He  _ wanted _ her to be a spy. If she were, he’d get rid of her, and by doing so weakening Ren once more. It was also clear that Hux, clever as he was, also just plain disliked her. 

“You don’t trust the Supreme Leader.”

At this Hux withdrew a little, the red angry colour to his skin pailing a bit. “What.”

“I was brought forth to the Supreme Leader and he decided what to do with me.” Sol glared at the General, anger beginning to churn in her. She couldn’t believe what she was accused for. And while she understood where the generals' suspicions came from, she also couldn’t help but feel greatly annoyed by them. Trust was not so easily given, especially not between a general of The First Order and a girl with her past. 

There was also a much smaller side that felt flattered that he would even consider her capable of going through with such a plan. 

“I trust the Supreme Leader, whom I don’t trust is you.” Hux stopped just inside the door of the massive training room the ceremony of wills had taken part in. Now it was filled with a squadron training hand to hand combat under the watchful eye of their captains, the one most notably the chrome armoured one, who stood taller than most of the soldiers. 

“Then, it seems, we’re on the same page,” Sol answered back. 

The general looked out over his troops with clear satisfaction. Whether it was because of the powerplay of showing her the vast superiority in numbers or because he had managed to rile her up she didn’t know. 

“Our troops are taught different ways of fighting to best prepare them for battle,” Hux commented, leading her further into the room. On one of the dark mats two men stood alert, ready to make a move if the other made one. It wasn’t an unfamiliar dance but it was, to her trained eyes, very rugged. One move triggered another in an almost mechanical way. 

“You’ll find that most armies does that,” Sol commented adding in her thoughts,  _ yours isn't special _ . One of the fighters made a move, stepped forward and began their attack and as she just thought before, it was mechanical and predictable. “You won’t win wars with men like these.”

Hux face soured just minimally. “Is that so?”

Sol knew she was treading in dangerous waters and yet, she decided that if she wanted to reach her goal of bringing Ren’s attention towards her, she’d have to make a big splash. And what big a splash it would belittle the general’s pride. 

From the time spend with him, she knew that this was a man who thought men were above women, that a man must control his wife. He would straight go to Ren and complain. It wouldn’t do much but it’d play right into where she wanted them. 

“An army is only as strong as its weakest link,” Sol continued, walking around the fighters on the mat, eyes sharp and analysing. “I took out five of your men in close quarter combat, General. You could say that it was because I grew up on Ori, I came out of the womb fighting, but really, it must be lack of training since the resistance still remains.” Sol turned to a scornful looking Hux, red creeping onto his pale face as his pride was put in question. “Or maybe it’s the leading that’s the problem. A soldier is only as good as their leader.” 

Before Hux could bite back some of the degrading curse words he’d undoubtedly want to fling at her, she turned and marched into the ring, the mat sinking ever so slightly under her weight. 

The two men on the mat were young, maybe her age or a little younger by the faces they had, but not untouched by war. It wouldn’t be long before Hux had them shipped out to some wretched place she thought and when they did, they should be able to defend themselves properly. 

“You’re both too mechanical.” The two stepped back from her as she approached, uncertain what this colourful and finely dressed woman was doing here. Their eyes went past her and towards Hux, who stood straight as a board and stared daggers into her back. 

“If you continue to be as rugged as you are now in your movements you’ll end up dead. Don’t be afraid to be hurt, it’s better to be hurt and survive than die because you’re afraid of pain. When you go to do this,” Sol said, her voice had fallen into an educator tone she adopted from her long gone teachers, took hold of one of the soldiers and slowly went over the move they had done. “Bend ever so slightly in your knees, push them back first,” she continued. “Then quickly pull them towards you, go under the arm, twist around and continue to push. If they don’t fall, bring a foot in front of theirs.” 

Sol showed them how to do it, slowly at first, then immediately after speed it up. Pushed, pulled, swing, force the person down by locking their arm. The dangling jewellery chimed in her ears, the beads of the dress complaining at the movements. Releasing him, she looked over to the General. “Is this all you can offer?”

“These are newer recruits, Lady Ren. We have far more skilled soldiers-,”

“I would hope so but if they’re not taught properly at the first stages how will they ever survive?” Sol walked to him. “If you go to war with these you will lose.”

“We will not lose,” Hux all but spat at her, increasing the attention that was already on them, even so much so that the chrome giant looked over. Swallowing his rage and breathing out of his nose, Hux found his composure before continuing. “They will continue to train, we will continue to enlist more soldiers and gain numbers. The resistance needs all of this, they need people, they need fighters and they need money. We will crush them like the tiny insects they are. Numbers will always win.

“Who do you think you are intervening in the training of our recruits? You’re nothing special, you have no training, no manners and no power here. You’re a wife, that is all you are and all you’ll ever be.” 

“If you trained your soldiers better I,  _ a mere wife _ , wouldn’t need to give advice,” Sol shot back, the two close to each other now, fuming with anger and dislike. “If one Orian can take out five of your soldiers-,”

Hux interrupted, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “We might be in for a fight but the Orian is with us and with you here they are not likely to sway from our arrangement.”

“Ah yes, the arrangement I secure by being in your grip. Let me remind you, General, how easy it is to fall from the ladder of hierocracy.”

They could have continued their battle were it not for the robotic voice of Captain Phasma saying that the general was needed elsewhere. Reigning in his pride and taking up the well accustomed manners he had, the general bid a cold farewell. Sol bowed her head to him before he turned to showcase that he wasn’t the only one skilled in civilities. 

Kylo Ren would be a direct battle, while a battle with Hux was wrapped in pretty words and formalities. If it weren’t for the three  _ hating _ each other, they would make an impressive group. 

Still, with curious but cautious eyes on her, Sol left the training hall walking towards her quarters with a small smile on her face. Despite all the shit that was flung at her, she felt that she had achieved what she wanted. Hux was sure to complain to Ren and in turn, Ren would have to respond. 

It was a dangerous play to be sure. It would have consequences. But it’d also show her more of her new husband.    
Kylo Ren, as much as she hated him, was an enigma she had to at least try to solve. He was the only way she could get an inch of what she wanted. It was horrible but it was the truth. 

“Making an enemy out of the General is not a smart move,” Eon commented.

“I had the feeling we wouldn’t exchange friendship bracelets regardless.” It’s easier to regard Hux as an enemy than a friend. Like Sol, Hux is only out for himself. Making a friendship would be deluding herself.  _ I’d have an easier time befriending Ren than Hux. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might take a week longer to post the next chapter (meaning 2 weeks between now and the next chapter) because my cat just died and I'm taking it really hard. 
> 
> But as always, your comments and theories always make me want to get back to writing more. I really appreciate the comments, even if I don't respond to them. 
> 
> If you're interested in starting up a conversation I can be found on my multifandom blog at @zeciex on tumblr.


	5. Playing with fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol and Ren sit down for dinner, one to manipulate the other ready to throttle. Eon is not impressed.

When word came Sol was sitting in front of her vanity applying various creams to her skin after her bath. Mild irritation still lingered in her after receiving a ping on the datapad and seeing the taunting book General Hux had send her that was supposed to teach her how to be a proper wife of high society. She had skimmed through it in annoyance and then chucked the datapad to the opposite end of her coffee table where it tethered on the edge of falling off. Was every woman forced to sit through a book like that or was it just Hux being more of a dick? 

Eon came in, bowing his head slightly to Lady Ren, who cast a glance in his direction before fixing her eyes on herself in the mirror. The robe hung lowly, neck, shoulders and upper back exposed. It didn’t occur to her that she might cover-up and when Eon didn’t seem especially interested or uncomfortable the robe remained where it was. 

“Master Ren asked you to join him for dinner this evening.”

“Did he ask or demand?” Sol already knew the answer. Eon with his masked remained almost unreadable but she was sure there was the slightest flicker of emotion. “I will look forward to it.”

The knight took this as his answer, bowed and turned to leave when he was stopped by Sol’s voice once more. “Is he really that tall or is it the boots?” 

He turned to her, staring as if he couldn’t believe that she really asked that question. Sol smiled at him entertained by his reaction and the thought of him reporting this conversation back to Ren. As much of a spy he was, she couldn’t help but feel some strange sort of familiarity with him. 

“I mean, the boots gotta give him at least a couple of extra inches since the heaviness of that helmet he wears must compress his spine and shorten him,” Sol continued with a rye smile on her lips, one hand hovering over the top of her head to indicate the inches he might need. “Do you have a super strong neck or is it a matter of balance?”

“Are you mocking me?” Eon’s modulated voice asked. Despite the fact that the Knights of Ren was supposed to be the fearful elite of killers and that she certainly should be on the fence about this particular knight, she couldn’t help but tease him. 

“No, not at all, I just want answers,” Sol said voice thick with the lie she told. There was a little head shake from the knight. 

“They’re heavy but you get used to them,” Eon answered professionally, not wavering. It would take more to break through his serious attitude it seemed. 

Sol looked back into the mirror, looking over her features before beginning to apply makeup. “Do you ever take it off?”

“No.” The air became heavy with the sudden shift of questions. Eon had straightened up and shoulders pushed back like a true soldier, she didn’t have to look at him to know the tension that always occurred when they were in a company with one another had worked its way into him again. 

“Not in front of someone,” he finished. 

Sol wasn’t overly concerned with the appearance of the knight, his master, however, was a different case. What lurked behind that mask of his, a true monster or something else? “Have you ever seen him?” 

Now she looked over at him, eyelids gleaming silver in the lighting of the room. She wondered if this man before her had always been the perfect soldier or if it was forced upon him. Silence fell between them as one debated with himself whether to answer, while the other looked on observantly with her head tilted to the side in curiosity. 

“Yes.” The single word answer was edged out, final. Prodding him further would only bring annoyance on both of their behalfs, so she waved him off and returned to apply the last of her makeup. 

It was simple, the dress she choose. Black to match Ren but revealing to create the sense of both sensuality and vulnerability. The cut was deep, almost to her belly button, exposing the fine patch of skin between her breasts that were both also generously exposed in the sides. The skirt was long and puffed out by the heaviness of the fabrics, grazing the floor as she walked.

She had turned herself into a vision of elegance and sensual energy, ordained by her pale, almost silvery hair. 

Eon lead her through the corridors of the ship until they reached what she had expected to be his quarters but turned out to be a simple dining room. One wall was a window into space, the darkness of it seemingly impossible were it not for the bright stars and the planet of ice before them. 

For a moment she was captivated by the sight, that is until she felt the same burning sensation he always seemed to carry with him radiate towards her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing alert. 

Kylo Ren, her husband, sat there in his usual attire of black. The metal of his helmet caught the light and flashed at her.  _ She certainly did match him. _

“I was under the impression we were to have dinner,” Sol stated, peering out on the ice planet one last time as to ground herself from the wave of fear that washed over her. She had to steel herself, knowing that he was in a foul mood. 

“You will get food,” Ren said magnanimously. 

“So you will watch me eat?” This she certainly weren’t expecting, though she should have since Eon told her they never removed their helmets in company with another. And still, she was his wife. 

“Whether you eat or not, I don’t care.” He turned his face towards the opposite end of the table, where the only other seat was. “Sit down.” 

Doing what was asked of her, Sol took her seat lounging back in the chair while her eyes never left Ren. It was a display of ease, almost taunting, the way she sat and if she could see his eyes she was sure they’d narrow. 

The food was already delivered in front of her, warm and appetising, with a glass of red wine on the side. One silver fixed finger brushed against the sharp knife, the ring wrapped around the tip of her finger in a display of faux claws. It was a traditional Ori jewellery. 

“You questioned the competence of the general in front of his soldiers,” Ren started, his voice sharp and angry. “You mocked him, questioned his ability to lead and were overall disrespectful and contemptuous to the First Order. General Hux was so polite to point out  _ my _ inability to control my wife. Do you wish to be locked up like some prisoner? Have I not been gracious to allow you to roam the halls as you will?”

The glass was placed back on the table. Sol narrowed her eyes at him, beginning to be vexed herself. “Ah yes, my gracious, sweet husband, who left as soon as the wedding was over and refuses to grant an audience with me.” Every word was laced with poison, teeth turning into fangs and nails claws. “This was the only way I knew you’d see me. Mock General Hux enough to wound his pride and he’d surely complain to you to keep your wife on a leash.You should be aware of what he said about you through my guard.” 

“I’m aware of what he said about  _ you _ .” Her face fell a little. Ren leaned forward in his seat, big arms resting on the table, reminding her of what utter beast he was. He was so big, if it weren’t for the predatory feel to him, it’d be almost comical. 

Sol didn’t venture further into that territory and instead tried to steer the conversation. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

“All of this because I didn’t fuck you.” Ren breathed in his big form shifting. She could feel it, the force rippling through the dark space, small vibrations in the atmosphere that made the hairs on her body stand and a shiver run down her spine. His whole demeanour was dominating, controlled and yet chaotic, a beast trying its best not to lash out until there was nothing left in the world but it. She steeled herself once more, clenching her jaw and eyes remaining fixed on him.

“I didn’t want to marry you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have lost.” Throwing the crystal class at his head would a mistake. Gratifying, but a mistake. 

“No, I shouldn’t have but I did-,”

“There was the option of dying with honour,” Ren cut in. A sour taste returned to her mouth and even a gulp of bitter wine couldn’t remove it. If she had let him cut her down, make the injuries to great or even killed herself, she could have died with honour in the face of marrying him. Dying was never an option. “But instead you choose to live. You want to survive, you want power so you can go through that list of yours.”

A cold hand ran down her spine, heart dropping in her chest and breath caught in her throat. How did he know if it? 

“Am I on your list.”

“No,” Sol answered remorsefully. “It wouldn’t do well for me to put my  _ loving husband  _ on my kill list. There are more important people on it. People who I can actually kill.”

“Ah yes, the Orian superstition that the killing of a spouse will condemn you to eternal dishonour.” It wasn’t superstition, or maybe it was, but Sol wasn’t going to take that chance. Killing Ren, her husband, would not only cause great dishonour and eternal damnation but also signing her own death warrant. The First Order or The Supreme Leader would have her flayed and burned. No, Ren was her meal ticket and a way to get further. 

“You want to survive more than you want your revenge.”

“Will you die for what you believe in?” Sol asked with as much malice as Ren flung towards her. It takes two to play this game, she wasn’t going to sit there and take it. 

“Yes,” Ren answered simply. 

“Then do so,  _ after _ you secure my position. That is…  _ if you can _ .” Taunting him was the best she could do, the only weapon she could use under the circumstances. Standing up, both fists clenched at his sides, Ren restlessly shifted from one foot to the other, seemingly considering whether to run her through with his saber. 

Not wanting to rise, Sol remained seated, claw grazing against the knife subconsciously, ready to use it as a weapon if it were needed. “Some may wonder why you were so quick to leave after the ceremony. They might think you’re not capable… or maybe just not well endowed.” Her malicious words were underlined by the pitying face she made. She was of half a mind to wiggle her little finger at him but decided that it wasn’t needed. The force that he wielded tickled along her skin uncomfortably, wrapping around her but not sinking in. 

“You speak so lowly of me but what about you? The last princess of Ori must have brought in vast amounts of credits, but then again, your heritage wasn’t spoken off so the amount may not have been much after all. How many have you fucked? 50? 100? 1000? The Red Lady has a vast clientele.”

If Ren was angry, Sol was furious. Her time with The Red Lady was not the best but she did teach her some things, one of them being that power meant you could do almost anything and another thing was using what was between her legs to get what she wanted. 

“Some would say it is an advantage to have experience. Do you have any? Experience? Are you human or not? Do you even have a dick under those robes.” The glass, plate and utilities vibrated with the force of Rens hand connecting with the table. He was barely holding it together, barely keeping himself from lashing out on her. The unsavoury memory of being force choked flashed in her mind. Sol rose from her seat. 

“I want to be secure and if security means fucking you, I will do it.” She was in his face now, having shortened the distance as she spoke until she stood in front of the fuming man. Killing her wasn’t an option, The Supreme Leader would be generally displeased at his apprentice's failings and she bet her life on it. 

“You’re an overambitious _whore_ ,” his dark voice hissed out, hands so clenched it was a wonder the fabric of his gloves didn’t break. “You’d be nothing without me.The only reason you’re alive is because everyone you love is dead. Your name is tarnished, you’re dishonoured and you’ll never get back the things you’ve lost. You’re a selfish cunt who is never going to find love. _You’re all alone, Sol_ _and you’ll always be alone, revenge won't bring them back._ ”

Something strained within her. A sob was climbing in her throat but was quickly swallowed with great pain, like swallowing glass. Somehow, his words dug into her. He was right and that was the worst of it. She was a whore, she was tarnished, dishonoured and alone. The people she loved was gone.  _ He _ was the only form of power she’d get, the only way to get what she wanted. 

_ No, revenge won't bring her family back but it's a fucking start.  _

“And you are just some monster in a mask too afraid to show your real face,” Sol spat at him. What a dyad. With all the strength she had, fueled by pure spite, she pulled the heavy fabric of her skirt over her ass, baring it for the world and leaning over the table strutting it out further as if to entice something. The pale expanse of her rear was almost too perfect and plump, despite the slender but strong statue of the rest of her. 

“Quit being a fucking coward and just do it already!” Sol looked over her shoulder directly at him, rooted to the place. Then, abruptly he walked away, guarded and without a word. 

Left alone in the room Sol finally noted the coolness of it. A tear slipped over her cheek and landed on the table. The dress fell in its place as she stood, then bundled around her as she sank to her knees with a hand over her mouth in a silent scream. For a moment there was nothing but pain, fear and humiliation, so familiar she could call it a friend. Then the feeling was swallowed until the storm was replaced with a stillness. Breathing deeply, Sol rose from the floor and brushed the tears from her cheeks. The hard mask of indifference fell over her face. 

She sat down at the table and ate the food as if nothing had happened. When the food was gone the knife was wiped on the fabric napkin and slit into her dress, just beside her breast and side. It’d be hidden there as another steel panel to keep the dress up. That was at least what she hoped. 

Eon took one glance at her coming out of the room and then lifted his hand in a receiving gesture. “The knife.” 

Glaring at him with indignation Sol fished out the knife with much greater effort than when she had shoved it in there. The blade bit her skin on the way out, leaving the slightest of a red line in its wake. She was of half of mind to just dropping it on the floor but decided against it. 

How he knew she had it in the first place was beyond her. He didn’t use the force on her, at least not to her knowledge and she was in control of her emotions after shoving them down into a box and locking them away for the moment. 

Scowling and looking over all contentious they headed towards her room. Eon didn’t say anything. He remained the silent shadow to follow her back while her head stirred up a storm of thoughts. Failing in the endeavour. This had been the easiest of roads to take, more direct, but now she’d have to take the consequence for her words. With a man like Ren she was sure there’d be retribution. 

And with a woman like Sol there’d payback for his words too. If he got in the way of what she wanted, she’d simply have to find a way through him. 

* * *

Kylo had been irritated since he had returned to the ship, a feeling that was sure to remain and only grow as Hux had complained to him about his new wives antics, which brought him to a yelling match with said wife, each trying to hurt the other as much as they possibly could. 

He was shaking with the force of holding himself back as the waves of her emotions and words kept crashing into him, the controlled barrier beginning to crumbled the closer she came to him. He wanted deeply to tear her to pieces. This girl was the worst kind of vermin that simply wouldn’t die, that kept swarming around his head to his great annoyance. This  _ whore _ didn’t know her place. Did she really think he’d stick his dick into her just because they were married, just because  _ she _ wanted a fraction of power? 

No. 

And then she turned from him, bundling her skirts up over the plump expanse of her ass, sticking it out seductively in an attempt to sway him and he was just about to break and show her that he had only used a fraction of his powers in that torture chamber. Her black eyes looked at him with daring anticipation. 

He hated her. Eminently. Violently. 

With the last shreds of control he had he left the room, dark cloak flapping with the force of his walk, heavy boots beating against the floor. Without a single glance at Eon who stood dutifully outside the room, hands placed behind him in a formal stance. Kylo tethered on the edge of total obliteration. Eon was familiar enough with his master to know that intervening would cost him an arm, a leg, maybe his head. No, definitely his head in this instance. 

Unable to contain his anger any longer Kylo walked into one of the meeting rooms and unleashed his rage on any and everything. His saber sputtered to life, the blade crackling with the instability that matched its owner inability to control the violent chaos of emotions, having never fully learned how to ever since he turned to the dark side. 

Kylo hated how she managed to affect him, how she somehow managed to claw her way under his skin, how easy it was to her rile him up and drive him crazy. The Supreme Leader must have been wrong. This girl would drive him mad before anything else. 

The long table didn't stand a chance against the saber, cutting straight through it violently, the two ends creaking as they fell. Chairs was cut in half, shredded and sent flying against the wall as he hissed and screamed in anger. Red sparks rained over him as the saber cut through the walls, leaving long wounds bleeding as the edges melted and then slowly cooled. The lights in the room flickered, sparks raining from the panels and controls. It was only when he was heaving for breath he stopped and looked at his creation. 

Hux would have a hissy fit when he was told of this. 

The saber extinguished, the red beam disappearing into the shaft as his finger left the button. There was always this strange calm amidst the chaos after he had released his emotions. 

Kylo left the room in shambles and headed towards his training hall made for only him and his knights whenever they were here. It was a room much like the ones the stormtroopers used to practice in, but this room was far more filled with different kinds of weapons hanging on the walls or held in special stands. The mats here was black and one wall had a window out into dark space. 

Kylo found himself standing in front of the window, overlooking the icy planet of Ilum, where currently a massive weapon of great destruction was being built. It was like this Eon found him, silently entering the room attentive to his masters' mood. 

“Report.”

“Lady Ren has returned safely to her quarters,” Eon answered. 

“Good, keep her there. She isn’t allowed to leave and if she tries anything,” Ren turned to his knight. “Then get creative with the punishment.”

“Yes, Master.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll later this week go back to chapter 4 and edit a continuity error that'll happen if I keep it in for later chapters. 
> 
> Also, I'm BACK!!! and writing. Next chapter is 22 pages long, so I'm debating whether to split it up into two parts. Chapter 7 is just as long and might also be split into two parts. After these two parts, I'm a little uncertain where the story is going, but chapter 8 and 9 will properly be used on building the relationship between Kylo and Sol. Then we'll begin to cash out on some things set up in the posted chapters. 
> 
> Hope you like the story so far and tell me what you'd like to happen in later chapters and what your speculations or headcanons are.


	6. Breakout Queen Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sol acts out against the order by hauling ass off ship to go after her own goals. Basically Sol says fuck ya'll I got things to do. 
> 
> Part I

Three weeks she spends locked up in her room. This was her punishment for her actions, more so she thought, angering Ren rather than bothering Hux. The time was spend training, making sure her muscles remained strong and re-familiarising herself with Orian sword dances. 

It was upon the fourth week she was finally allowed to leave, though she wasn’t permitted to go many places, so she always ended up in front of the window out into the hangar watching as ships came and went. Eon would most often join her was he not required to be somewhere else, most likely with Ren. When that happened she was guarded by stormtroopers, who she managed to slip away from. 

It took two weeks to snap up enough information to from a plan. Ren was clearly not going to treat her as a wife and she certainly couldn’t  _ ask _ to be let go for a little while so she had to be tricky. There were of course consequences to her actions, she was very well aware of them, but disregarded this.    
She was going to find who ratted her out to the first order and make them pay. Decon would never see her coming. 

Sol had pinned her hair up and dressed in black. There wasn’t the usual flair of colour, no deep necklines, no revealing clothes. It was very simple and as close as she could come to the stormtrooper underclothes. On her back were a tiny black backpack filled with valuables to be used as bargaining chips. 

Carefully she mixed a blue powder that had once been disguised as makeup, with another compound of red, letting the two rest in the small bowl before adding a dash of her perfume. Mixing these things together created sedative that was said to block force sensitives from using their abilities while also knocking them out. It was the less painful way to knock Eon out. Otherwise, she’d have to use the shock baton she had managed to steal on one of her ventures without supervision. 

It was crucial to the plan that she remained calm and not give herself away to those who might be listening. Still, her heart pounded in her chest as she carefully dipped the sharp tip of one of her hairpins in the liquid. 

Maybe this was a stupid plan. It certainly worked in the short run but she didn’t have time for the long run. The long run was too difficult, it’d require more vulnerability on her part that she was willing to be. 

Besides, this would only be of inconvenience of Ren and she simply couldn’t hide the smile when she thought of how he’d react. Her mother always told her she was too chaotic for her own good, taking the road that might cause her the most trouble for the easiness of it. 

Upon the remembrance of her mother, Sol looked up into the mirror and saw her mother's eyes look back at her.  _ This will cause too much trouble, my child. _ She could hear her voice clear as day. “Yes, but it’s the only way.” 

Sol got up, picked up a basin of water, kicking a chair over and dramatically dropping the basin to the floor with a loud clatter, falling after it and crying out in pain. Eon entered and she could almost imagine his brows rising in surprise at the scene. Sol clutching her ankle as if it was sprained, the chair lying on its side in a pool of water from the overturned basin. Her brows were knitted in faux pain and she let a whimper out as an underline for pain. 

Eon walked to her like the good soldier he was, putting the chair upright and placing the basin on the seat before turning to Sol, his robes lapping at the water as he crouched down onto her level. “Will you need to see a doctor?”

“No,” Sol said taking hold of the hand he extended to her and swiftly pulled the hairpin from its hiding, turning it around with her fingers and promptly jabbed it into the ridge between his neck and shoulder, where there was a weakness in his clothing. “But you might need one.”

Surprised by the sudden sharpness that poked him, as well as the fast acting agent on the pin, Eon lost balance and fell to his knees, head dipping downwards while he fought the urge sleep. 

With great care, Sol wrapped her arms around his head and shoulder, guiding his falling body down to the floor instead of letting him hurt himself. If she could see his face she’d be sure to watch his eyes roll around in his head, blinking rapidly to try and focus. Smiling down at him and avoiding his reaching hand she decided to give an explanation. “It won’t be long before you fall asleep and you won’t be able to use the force to alert anyone.”

“Wh-what…” His mumbled, words jumbled and messy. 

“I know, I know, but it’s the only way. You’ll find me soon enough.” His hand fell to the floor. Sol observed the rising and falling of his chest and deemed that he was fast asleep. With great effort, he was dragged out of sight just for extra security. 

Sol wrapped herself in one of her extravagant robes, tying it around the black clothes and left her room. Her face fell into the usual superior mask that deter others from asking any questions. As far as she could tell there was no one who noticed the lack of supervision. 

After waiting for a little while in a near corridor to the hangar where a ship would leave for port at Corellia, the small unit of the 77th came walking in line with their orange shouldered squad leader in the lead. Sol came out from her hiding place walking opposite the way they were going and grabbing the last trooper before they slipped through the door out into the hangar. Much to her great annoyance, the troopers partner stopped also. 

“Excuse me, I’m lost and can’t find my way back to my room could you help me?” She asked sweetly. The two stormtroopers looked at each other nervously, unsure of the protocol. 

“Apologies, Lady Ren but we’re about to leave,” One began. Sol straightened and the two seemed to cower. Taking them out here would expose her, she had to get one of them to herself. 

“I’m not asking,” her voice had turned authoritative, the same voice she used so many times before, one learned in the Royal House of Ori. “One of you will show me the way back to my room and the other will go back to your squad and ensure they won't leave without the other.” 

The stormtrooper she had grabbed hold of nodded to his partner, that hesitantly walked away. Sol smiled at him and followed suit, knowing that the way to her quarters would bring them past many empty rooms. Once they were away for the hustle and bustle of the hangar, Sol produced the hairpin from her sleeve and jabbed it into the back of the troopers neck, quickly catching the man under his arms and with a strained breath of air pulled him into what turned out to be a closet. The stormtrooper was bound and gagged with her robe after losing his armour. 

Once she had disguised herself as a stormtrooper, and cursed under her breath of how heavy and restraining the whole suit of armour was, she quickly marched away the same way she had observed the stormtroopers to do. 

Fear wasn’t the emotion she was feeling, but rather anticipation fueled by adrenaline. Nervous sweat began beading under the armour making the fabric of her clothes stick to her uncomfortably. She felt the tinge of sweat bead at her temples and above her lips. 

The sleeping trooper's partner waved her over as she floundered in distinguishing stormtroopers from each other and see properly out of the helmet. How the fuck did Ren and Eon do it? How did anyone do it? It was absolutely restrictive. 

“Took your sweet time,” the partner whispered to Sol as they were marching onboard the ship in perfect synchrony you’d only get from excessive practice and the hounding of a superior in your ear. The squad leader stepped up on a box and began counting heads. As the voices neared Sol, she felt the trickle of sweat run down her spine, heart stilling the moment it was her turn to yell ‘yes, sir!’. No one batted an eye and she could sense that the only emotions hanging in the air were anticipation, boredom and slight discomfort. There was no suspicion. 

The ship began vibrating underneath their feet as it began its engine, a slight sway following from it lifting off the platform and beginning its journey out of the hangar and into space. The light flickered on and off until the spacecraft fell into the rhythm of hyperspace.

“The destination is Corellia, where we will be enforcers in search of rebel scum and allies. Is that understood?” The squad leader spoke with all his might, voice commanding. 

“Yes, sir!” Was yelled back just as briskly. The leader stepped down, taking a seat while everyone else remained to stand, one arm holding onto a bar in the ceiling for security in the event of turbulence. Sol’s partner leaned over to her, speaking low and quickly. “Did you damage your voice modulator?” 

Panicked she shrugged, giving off a sound that was meant to be answer enough. If she was discovered now it would all have been for nothing, and she was certain that Ren would rub her failure in her face, not to mention Hux. Killing the troopers weren’t an option either, they were too many and in this gear, she was in a disadvantage. 

“You sound different so you must have damaged it,” the stormtrooper continued, not at all affected by the continuance of shrugs and muffled grunts. “How did you damage it? Was it Lady Ren? I heard she has an as bad a temper as Commander Ren.” Exasperated and offended Sol glared at the trooper.

“Lady Ren? I know one of the soldiers that took her in, he said that she killed five in his squad before they managed to take her in. And then she almost killed officer, KO-899 while he was interrogating her,” the stormtrooper in front of her added, glancing back at them. “You’ve seen her, she’s beautiful but terrifying.”

“She even went against the General!” A third stormtrooper joined in. 

“She’s apparently some long lost princess, that’s why she married Commander Ren.”

“A princess? But she was an assassin,” the stormtrooper in front of her with the deepest voice of the three spoke, confused. Finding herself in the midst of gossip, about  _ her _ no less, Sol began to wish for any sort of distraction. At the same time, being privy to gossip about oneself was rare and she could see the opportunity in what others thought of her. 

“The General has been digging around and apparently she was part of the Red Lady’s court,” the third added in detail. Sol closed her eyes for a moment, breathing slowly in and out, trying not to rip the stupid helmet off and throw it across the ship and let them know  _ she _ was there. 

“If she’s from the Red Lady’s court she should be able to ease some of Ren’s tension. Maybe he’ll be so satisfied he won't stomp around destroying everything and threatening to kill everyone. I could use a day where I don't fear of running into Ren’s fury.” 

“You’ll have to live in fear. I saw what happened after a dinner the two supposedly had and let me tell you it was not pretty. The whole conference room was destroyed and he was even more agitated than usual after that.”

“How can you go from a princess to a whore? And why the kriff would Commander Ren marry her if it was true.”

“Because he didn’t have any choice.”

“Do you think he had a choice? It was the Supreme Leader. I know for a fact that General Hux is livid that Commander Ren got her and not him, that is why he’s so angry whenever she’s brought up. She’s a princess to a big planet, he wanted to marry her to get her throne.” 

“That is just speculation!” Sol’s sideman waved off. “All we know is that she’s a princess-,”

“And an assassin,” the deep voiced trooper cut in only to be followed by the third trooper saying, “And a prostitute.”

“ _ And _ ,” her partner continued exasperated. “She’s a serious problem for everyone if she keeps getting under the commanders skin. Lady Ren is a vixen if she continues on the path she’s on she’ll not only get herself killed but a lot of others. If I were married to the commander, I’d do whatever I could to comply and live a quiet life.”

“How can you even think about being married to a man like that?” The third trooper asked with amusement, lightly tapping his friend on the chest with a chuckle. “If I could take my pick I wouldn’t mind being married to Lady Ren, despite her promiscuous past.”

“That is because you’re vain and all you think of is sex.”

“She’s beautiful, strong and capable of protecting herself, and I won’t mind someone with experience. Being a princess is only a bonus.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Sol’s partner said, shaking his head. 

Swearing upon all of her ancestors, Sol wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. It was hard enough not to try and defend herself, but then being forced to listen to their continued discussion over her advantages and disadvantages, made her cheeks burn. All her flaws and the opposite being spoken off so casually was like being sat down in front of your teacher that continued to praise or critique you were dreadful, not to mention most of it were just mere speculation. 

She was going to use her poisoned hairpin to jab her partner with to get away from them, but decided that the little jab and then sound sleep were too good for him, even if it weren’t explicitly him that had said all of those things. It might be petty but even the smallest form of retribution were required.

Sol had always been petty in that regard. The smallest of slight were paid in kind, especially during her time with the Red Lady and her brothel so ruthlessly called court, where it was easy to fall into squabbles in the attempt to not being the bottom bitch. Even her time with the Crow she had to choose her battles of pettiness. If someone walked all over her, she had to return the favour or fall victim to the weakness of always being walked over. 

Sol would like to think herself slightly evolved from that, but truthfully, she feared it’d never leave her. It had become second nature, an instinct driven by the need to survive. 

“I pity her, though. Imagine being married to the commander.”

The tiny group quieted down, falling into attention with gazes fixed in front of them, back straight and shoulders pushed back, when the squad leader walked past them, glaring despite eyes being hidden by a mask. Sol did her best to replicate the way the stormtroopers stood. She breathed easy when he moved on. 

“I think it's best you don't speak, if squad leader hears your voice you’ll get written up.” Maybe there was one redeeming quality to her partner. Sol nodded in understanding and kept her mouth shut. 

The time from leaving the mother ship to landing on Corellia felt like hours, closer to a day actually. But eventually, as all journeys do, it came to an end. The ship vibrated and shook as it landed, lights flickering as the motor drew more power. The ramp opened up, golden light breaking through the fluorescence of the ships light. In a march, everyone left the ship and finally set foot on solid ground.

With one more quick rundown of what their objective was, they were set to work. At first they all followed in one large group, but eventually, partners broke off as they went to investigate and terrorize the inhabitants. 

“Did you see that?” Sol asked, pointing her blaster towards an alleyway. Her partner stopped up and peered in the direction she was pointing, then looked back at her. 

“No, what is it?”

“There!” Sol answered with more deliberate intensity. She passed in between the buildings, a few steps ahead of her partner that hesitantly followed after her. “I think there’s someone in there.”

Her partner took up the mantle of searching, walking deeper into the alley and further away from the crowd and their watchful eyes. Kicking away trash and peering around in an attempt to find whatever his partner had seen, he eventually turned around with a shrug, only to find Sol pointing her blaster at him, switched over to stun. Before he could protect himself, Sol shot him in the chest, sending him colliding with the wall and scrambling to the ground, head rolling. 

Sol removed her helmet, taking a gulp of fresh air, before squatting down to look directly at the stormtrooper. “Sorry, buddy but you kind of deserved that.” 

It took a while removing the whole stormtrooper get up, the air cooling the wet clothes sticking to her body, small hairs standing on her arms. Sol ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it up in an attempt to dry it. The blaster was discarded along with the armour. Walking around with a blaster of that kind would only invite trouble and she had to be as inconspicuous as she could, at least for a little while longer. 

During her time in the underbelly of society, Sol learned a multitude of skills, one of them being sticky fingers. The first thing she stole now was a hooded cloak, she quickly wrapped herself in, hiding her long pale hair and face. If the Jedi could walk around invisible like this, she certainly could. The next thing was credits, just enough to pay a speeder to take her to Arelia Blue, a small district that had a diverse influx of people. 

The buildings rose from the ground, small stores set up in front of buildings and in between them, fabrics set up as a shield against the glaring sun of the afternoon. This city was built on multiple levels, a four-dimensional maze that’d make your head spin if you’ve never dealt with a city like that before. 

Sol knew exactly where she was going. T’haki Mace, a Togruta. If anything happened on this planet, he’d know about it, especially if it was in the criminal circles. 

The stairs that led to the middle of a tall, shifty-looking building almost took her breath away. The blue metal door was guarded by two rough-looking thugs, blasters strapped to their hips, arms like trees covered in tattoos that climbed all the way up to their necks. One even held a toothpick between his teeth. Both stood from their small chair, putting down bowls of soup, as she approached, pulling down the dark hood to reveal her face. 

“The boss isn’t seeing anyone,” the one with blue skin said, nodding towards the way she came from. 

“I need to speak with him,” Sol shot back, closing in. 

“ _ He isn’t seeing anyone _ ,” the other repeated, golden eye glaring at her. 

“He’ll want to speak with me so either you let me pass or I’ll go through you,” Sol answered in just as exasperated tone as he had done. The two looked at each other respectively then back at her, reaching for their guns. Through them it is. 

Scalding soup flew at one of them as she kicked at the bowl, turning quickly to connect her fist with the others cheekbone, hand then diving to take his blaster from his grasp, pirouetting around to smack the weapon into the others face with enough force to knock him out. Sol turned to the one conscious, palm smacking into his face and bringing it into the wall, efficiently knocking him out as well. 

Without breaking a sweat the two lie unconscious on the ground, soup darkening their trousers. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face before looking up into the camera above the door, shrugging with both palms out in a gesture of ‘now what’. The door buzzed open. 

Inside was another set of stairs leading up and into a long corridor where the walls were covered with screens, top to bottom. At the end, before the corridor unfolded into what looked like archives, behind a desk with a computer and a puny looking lamp sat the orange skinned bastard himself. Sol glanced into a room she passed, where more of his men sat around a table eating lunch and gambling. 

At least she didn’t have to fight them too. 

“My, my, S, I never thought I’d see you again,” T’haki Mace said in greeting, leaning back in his squeaky chair with a calculative smile on his face, blaster waving in her face. 

“Is that a way to greet a friend?” Sol asked with scorn, sitting down in an equally squeaky chair. 

“Friend?” T’haki tasted the word. “I’m sorry, I’m just taking precautions, forgive me. It isn’t always someone returns from the Order.” 

“Here I am.”

“ _ Here you are _ ,” he said with bared teeth, suspiciousness lacing every facial expression. “Tell me, how’d that come to be.”

“I got married.” 

“Congratulations, who is the lucky man?” 

“Kylo Ren.” His eyes narrowed, unsure whether to see this as a threat or a joke. Sol’s pale eyebrow lifted in assertion. 

“So it is true then. You’re a princess. Quite different from an assassin, ‘innit? Why are you here if you’ve got the order backing you?” His hand never left the fun, just casually resting on top of it, ready at any moment's notice. It was clear that he suspected this was a setup, and really, Sol couldn’t blame him, she’d have done the same. 

“The Order isn’t particularly fond of me so I came to you. I’m here to cash in that favour you owe me.” 

“Is that so?” T’haki adopted a predatory interest, crooking his head. His smile was sharp, teeth and tongue made weapons. The white pigment drawn over his face matched the whites of his teeth. 

“I need to find Deacon.” Sol remained as she was, the leisurely ease a pretence. If she had to, she’d kill him right there. But however slippery T’haki was, he never disappointed when given a job. He’d draw the whole thing out to great annoyance but always got the job done. They had worked together before.

“There’s lots of people called Deacon.”

“You know which one,” Sol answered shortly, getting annoyed by the feign confusion as to who she spoke of. 

“Tall, finely polished, a bit of a prick, rotten to the core?” 

“That’s the one.”

T’haki turned his gleaming gaze to the computer monitor, orange fingers tapping over keys. Sol waited as patiently as she could but began to feel as if the clock was counting down. It wouldn’t be long before the sedative she had given Eon worn off, if it hadn’t already, which meant time was limited before they were on her trail. She prefered to have everything done by that time. 

The key tapping stopped and T’haki’s eye turned back on her.“He congregates around Illyan, a most prominent bar in midtown.” Sol nodded, lips pursed in thought. “You are still here.”

“What do you know of Kylo Ren?” Sol asked, eyes remaining connected with his, unphased by the flickering lights from the multiple screens on the walls, each beckoning her to look and shift her attention.

T’haki’s eyebrow rose. “Kylo Ren, masked master of the Knights of Ren, Commander of the First Order, apprentice of…  _ The Supreme Leader _ , I never got why they’re all so obsessed with dandy titles.”

“Says you, Collector of Whispers,” Sol snarked with a small smile on her face. T’haki made a face and shrugged, both hands rising with it.

“I didn’t come up with it. It’s suiting but tacky,” he said, eyes rolling. He hated the name, which only made it all the more fun to use. “Oh, and of course, your husband. The marriage must have given you plenty of titles.”

“Most of them unwelcome. What else do you know about him?”

“Rumors, most of which is unconfirmed.” He scratched his jaw, with a white painted nail. 

Sol took off her bag, the movement making T’haki’s hand rest on the blaster once more. Brushing the hair out of her face, she then unzipped it and pulled out some of her precious jewellery, laying the gold and silver on the desk, the trinkets infested with precious stones of all colours. “I want you to get me everything you can on him, confirmed or not.” She pushed the stack towards him, his eyes gleaming with interest and the air shifting around them, telling her than he was more than pleased with the small treasure. 

“I also want you to get everything you can on General Hux,” she added. 

“And how do I get this information to you?” T’haki had fully dismissed her as a threat and instead beginning to inspect one of her hairpins shaped like a golden flower, the multiple leaves curved in to hide the red stone at its middle. He looked up.

“You’re resourceful, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She stood up, fastening the cape around her shoulders, passing the hood over her head, after tossing the bag aside, its usefulness used up. Sol turned to him again, reaching over and taking his blaster, holding it up for inspection. 

“It’s on the house.” Sol smiled at him before walking away. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I write more in the new chapter tomorrow I will update part 2. 
> 
> As always, drop a comment. How pissed off do you think Kylo and Hux are? And what do you think the stormtroopers tell each other about Sol?


	7. Breakout Queen Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more complicated than Sol expected. Ren and Sol reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will also be split up into two chapters, though this time there'll be a week in between their postings. 
> 
> Tell me what you think and what you think about Kylo/Sol.

Illyan was decorated top to bottom with the most expensive materials. The circular bar the center of the establishment, purple velvet covering all sitting areas. Along the walls were small alcoves, a half-circular booth hidden by a purple sheer curtain for intimacy. 

Sol had had confiscated the cloak at the door, her anonymity gone. There weren’t a lot of people, the crowd gathered in small groups talking individually among themselves, a glass of alcohol in their hands, swaying slightly to the music. Pretentious, that was how she’d describe the setting, and knew exactly that this was the place Deacon belonged. It all felt familiar, and in a way it was. 

Sol spotted two figures distorted by the curtain shielding them from the outside, but she knew one of the men were Deacon, it was his posture that gave him away. She walked to them, careful to be hidden from Deacon’s view, then pulled the curtain to the side and stepped in, letting it fall into place behind her as she put the blaster at Deacon’s friends' temple. 

“Your meeting is finished,” Sol conclude for them, eyes following her hostages' hands when then slid over the smooth expanse of the table, dragging a hologram projector along with him, pocketing it. So he was a mercenary too. 

“I didn’t expect to see you again, S,” Deacon commented. 

“I get that a lot,” Sol answered through her clenched teeth, pressing the blaster harder against the mercenaries temple. “Why are you still here?”

The mercenary looked between Sol and Deacon, the ladder curtly nodding in dismissal. He got up, both hands held up in surrender, then disappeared through the curtain without a single word. Sol wondered if she had done the right thing to let him walk if he went to get back up. She discarded the thought and sat down in front of Deacon, the blaster never leaving its new target. 

“Are you surprised to see me? Did you miss me?” Sol asked the anger she had kept at bay beginning to flare up at the mere sight of him. Despite the unease lingering at the edges of his seams, he remained collected, both hands folded neatly in front of him, eyes worried but sharp. “Why couldn’t we ever have met at a place like this? It is much nicer than our meeting places.”

“I thought it might be too uncomfortable for you,” Deacon answered simply. He taunted her of course, he knew how much she liked luxury and her whole past with it. It’d remind her of her time with the Red Lady and even her time as a royal. 

“What can I help you with?”

“You can start by telling me why you sold me out to the Order.” Pale eyebrows rose, the face she made conveying ‘tell me the truth or I’ll make you suffer’. There’d be no doubt that she’d drag it out, painfully and with great skill if he didn’t answer. 

Deacon breathed in through his mouth, holding the breath in his chest before letting it out through his nose. His eyes had narrowed, offended. “You think I sold you out? I didn’t. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve always hated me. The feeling is mutual but I’m still offended.” Irritation began to stir in her stomach. 

“I am quite petty, like everyone in the game including you,” Deacon pointed out, taking a swig of his glass, the rings on his fingers gleaming in the dim light above the booth. 

“You’re damn right I’m petty.” The blaster was waved with, finger smoothly caressing the trigger. 

“ _ -but _ I’m far more interested in money than slighting you. Why would I snitch on someone who makes me a lot of money, it doesn’t seem smart.” There was a casualness to him, the worry shown earlier graduate evaporating. He was getting too comfortable. 

Exasperated, Sol let the annoyance get to her, churning in her stomach and chest. “You knew I was close to buying my freedom.”

“If that were it, I’d be more concerned with what the crow would do. Even if you bought your freedom, I could always make money off of you, provided you’d take the jobs I’d offer you. Informing the Order is something the Crow would do, not me.” It dawned on her that Deacon, however despicable he was, was right. He might hate her but he was far more concerned about earning money and Sol did bring in a good amount of Credits. They didn’t have to like each other to work together. 

But it was still surprising the crow would do such a thing, to inform an enemy and let them take care of their problem. Sol would have thought they’d handle such a thing internally. And honestly, it gave her a strange sort of feeling of betrayal. As much as she hated them, she also thought that they mutual respect for one another. Then again, she did put them on her kill list. 

“They wouldn’t do that, they have a code.”

“They do, and it’s ‘no one leaves the crow alive’.” Deacon was taking too much pleasure in her situation. “So what will you do now, sweetheart? Take out the whole crow.”

“If necessary,” Sol answered shortly. Maybe she’d speed up the process and get to her kill list. The First Order must have some resources she could take advantage of. But it’s still one thing to make a kill list, it's a whole other thing to pursue it. If she could make it beneficial for The Order to get rid of the Crow, then it might work. But it’d take a lot of manipulation. 

“But why would they send me to the Order and not just take care of me themselves.”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that you certainly managed to come out on top, didn’t you? The Red Lady taught you well.” His smile widened as her eyes narrowed at him. “Some would say it is luck, but I know it isn’t. You and I could work this to our advantage.”

Sol smiled cynically sweet, aimed the blaster at his head and pressed the trigger. The red beam shot through his head, burning a massive hole into his face, leaving the smell of burnt hair and flesh lingering in the air, enough so to make her wrinkle her nose. 

He tried to do the same as she did, bargain her way out, turn the tables to his advantage. She wouldn’t let him live, no matter what he said. Even if they hard partnered up, he’d have served her up on the silver platter at the first sign of resistance. And he still belonged to the crow. No, letting him live would only cause bigger trouble than what he was worth.  _ And she hated him.  _ That was in itself reason enough. 

Sol scooted out of her seat and moved towards the body, patting him down and pulling out a good 800 Credits, as well as holo projectors. She put the credit aside and switched on the projectors, glancing through the two first before pausing at the third, fifth and sixth, shoving those three in her pockets with a deep-set frown and a glance over her shoulder. Out of the kindness of her heart, she left 100 credits at the table for cleanup, before leaving the club. 

Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest, the churning in her stomach turning into something else. It wouldn’t be long before Ren would be here. 

The Emissary hadn’t changed at all since she had seen it last. It was the same seclude darkness that lingered, the same pungent smell and the same following glare of the patrons. Sol walked up to the barkeep known as Eddy, taking up the barstool furthest away from others. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, lass,” Eddy spoke, smiling invitingly. Eddy was a friendly face in a sea of suspicion. 

“I’ve been busy. Can you get me that thing I like?” Sol answered, letting out a breath and massaged the tense muscles of her neck, feeling a headache coming on. Eddy nodded and began the creative process of making her a drink. 

“You look rough for wear,” he commented, pouring a yellow and red liquid together, forming a storm of orange. Sol shrugged, pulling the hood down from her head, letting her hair breathe properly. It might not have been the smartest move but she didn’t care much at the moment. 

“And it’s not even the fun kind of rough for wear.” 

“I got married.”

“Oh?” This seemed to pique his interest. “I take it, it isn’t a desired marriage.”

“Nope, which also means I want a few shots.” Sol took the glass, tasting the orange liquid and feeling it warm her instantly. It was sweet and bitter at the same time. Eddy began to pour translucent liquor into small shot glasses. 

“Are they at least handsome?” 

“I wouldn’t know. He wears a mask at all times. I expect you’ll see him later, he’ll be coming for me.” She threw back a shot, then another. Her muscles began to tickle with the alcohol. It was nice out from the restrictions of the ship. 

“Is he good to you?”

“No.”

“Are you good to him?” Sol stared at Eddy, his words tumbling around in her head, unable to click into place. Was she good to him? She tried to be. No, no she really didn’t. Would anything change if she was better? Sol shudders to think about getting emotionally involved with that wreckage of a man. But it would be easier, maybe even enjoyable if they joined together instead of trying to piss the other off as much as possible. 

The Sol shook her head. “No. He doesn’t seem interested in making things work.”

“Are you?”

“Why are you asking me the tough questions?” Sol shot back exasperated. She didn’t need to change her viewpoint, didn’t want to. Thinking of Ren as a human, a person would only end badly for her. And if Eddy knew who she was married to, maybe he’d understand then where her reluctance was coming from. 

“It’s part of my job description,” Eddy answered with the smile of a man who had worked as a marriage counsellor for years. At that moment, Sol regretted mentioning the marriage. “Compromise, that is all I’m saying. You receive what you give.”

“I am  _ not _ compromising.” She pointed curtly at him, waving off the whole subject. Until  _ he _ shows some sort of humanity she wouldn’t change tactic. And still, there was a smaller part of her beginning to put together a new ploy, a new but more dangerous way of getting what she wanted. Tiny gears were churning. 

“That reminds me, have you seen Vic?”

“Vic?”

“The resistance recruiter.”

“Oh. No. I haven't seen him. He stopped coming around the time you did,” Eddy got mused, a thoughtful look on his face, blue brows narrowed together. “Maybe he moved on to another place, finding no recruits here.”

“Maybe,” Sol muttered, a bad feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was the alcohol that didn’t agree with her, or maybe it was the feeling of time running out. The more time that passed, the more she could feel  _ him _ , with his mask and his voice distorter, breathing down her neck. “If you see him, tell him that Sol, or S, asked for him.”

“Sure thing, lassie,” Eddy said, casting his eyes over her shoulder. Worry seeped into his features. “That group behind you has been eyeing you since you came in.”

Sol didn’t turn around, there was no need, she could see them in the mirror behind the bar, the group sitting huddled together over trinkets of alcohol, all with the same suspicious gloom over their faces, eyes shifting from her and towards everyone, making sure no one had noticed her and that they wouldn’t have to fight others to take her. 

She shrugged, swallowing back the last of her drink. “They’ll make a move when I leave. It’d be too much trouble trying anything in here.” They’ll hope to get her alone. Something that won't happen. 

A thickness wrapped around her, warm pulses the one she expected to come for her. Silence fell over the bar as the door opened, light pouring in almost blindingly, to reveal a tall, dark and masked figure, followed by a squad of white stormtroopers. All eyes were on them, weary and ready to fight. The tension was rising with each passing second, thick and heavy as smog. Burning ran over her form, his eyes finally landing on her. He was angry when wasn’t he. 

Sol made a face that said ‘yep, that is right’ and spoke quietly to Eddy, who had backed away from the front apprehensively. “My husband is here.”

Eddy’s eyes widened but kept on watching quietly when Sol rose from her stool, meeting Ren in the middle. The dulling effect of the alcohol coursed through her blood. His form seemed taller, much more dominant. Sol smiled at him, a cold and callous smile. “It took you longer than I expected.” 

“Let’s go,” was all he said and turned on his heels to walk away. Sol blinked at him, fully expecting a display of pure rage, of rough hands grabbing her arms to leave dark marks for later, of pushing and pulling. Instead, he intended that she’d follow him willingly. It was almost more frightening the utter display of control he managed to have because everything about him screamed ‘ _ fear me’ _ and ‘ _ violence _ ’. 

The group of thugs looked at each other individually, then one after the other stood up, hands sneaking to their weapons. They were either stupid or careless, which she’ll never know. 

The ugliest one called out, just low enough to be directed at her alone, but high enough to bring Ren to a halt. The profanity coiled around her soul, claws of pure plasma and fire, ripping through her pride, the sheds of her honour and her family’s honour.  _ Ttjansi bosu ha ‘rae ttjansi’ene’l _ which roughly translated to ‘whore from a lineage of disease-ridden whores’. It was one of the worst kind of profanities for Orians. 

Still, she managed to swallow the burning claws of anger. A breath of slow air was drawn in through her nose, teeth clenched tightly together and hands balled. She focused on Kylo, eyes meeting his through visor. In a blink of the eye, his saber sputtered to life with a hiss, the red blade continuing to seethe as it was brought down through one of the thugs. The smell of burned flesh mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol, each slash making the odour stronger. A table was cut through, the two parts glowing with burning embers. Four bodies were on the ground, sliced right through. 

Sol sprang to life and put a hand of Ren’s arm, pulling him back from murdering the last of the crew. The whole place had scrambled out of their way, pressing themselves to the walls, held there by the blasters pointing their way, ready to shoot if anyone made a move to intervene, not that anyone was insane enough to stop Kylo Ren. No one but Sol.

His head snapped to her. Sol looked carefully at him, disregarding the rapid beat of her heart and the fear that lingered in it at being cut through. Her head bobbed up and down as she spoke, trying to calm her voice more. “It’s enough. It’s enough, let's go.”

Without a word, Ren disengaged the saber, put it back on his belt and stalked towards the door with those heavy, controlled steps of his. Sol walked to the bar and put down the rest of credits she had taken from Deacon, making eye contact with Eddy who nodded in recognition of the debt that was paid. 

* * *

Kylo Ren had taken the first ship available, with a squad of troopers to back him up and flew directly to Corellia, where the trail led. The moment he was called up telling him that his wife had miraculously disappeared into thin air after knocking not only a stormtrooper out with a sedative, but also his knight, he had thrown the datapad across the training room, it shattering against the wall. 

He felt annoyed more than anything for having to chase her down. Did this girl never learn? She wasn’t  _ stupid _ , he knew that, but clearly she had no respect or fear. If it wasn’t so bothersome, he’d even say he was impressed. Impressed by her continuing disobedience. 

Upon entering the atmosphere he felt the line, that was created between them from their marriage, clear. There was no jumbles, no barrier between them. That was how he knew she wanted him to find her. Whatever she had come to do was clearly finished. This only seemed to annoy him further. He wasn’t a fucking taxi. She’d have to learn some respect, some obedience. 

He refused to think about the line between them ever since their marriage happened. Whether she knew of it or not, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that she was able to block him from finding her if she so wanted. Another thing to piss him off. 

He entered The Emissary the way he entered every room, with dominance, the aggravation he felt radiating off of him as heat does a motor. Light from outside poured over his shoulder like a sinister halo, a stark contrast to his dark attire. And there she was, in the back of the bar, pale almost white and in some lights silver, a cascade of hair flowing over her shoulders from the messy setup that should hold it back. His heart hardened. 

Her display of nonchalance making him want to tear her from her seat, were it not for the glimpse behind the mask she had set, at the sliver of worry. She didn’t want to be punished but also knew there were no going around it.  _ She would be punished there was no mistaking that _ . 

Sol got up and walked towards him. “Took you longer than I expected.” 

Kylo rolled his eyes behind his mask, controlling his emotions enough not to grab her and walk away like a mother with her mischievous child. This wasn’t the place to get riled up over his exasperating wife. Letting  _ her _ get under his skin in such a public setting would only make him look weak. And he was not about to look weak in front of these thugs. 

Then the group he had noted earlier to be a minor threat, a grievance actually, more than a threat, called out something he didn’t understand before feeling Sol’s presence ripple with fury. Whatever it was it had hit her, hard. Kylo could decipher it was bad, really bad, by Sol’s appearance trying to hold herself back from flinging at them in anger and sorrow. She wouldn’t do it, he knew that immediately, even if the thought of taking his saber from him to cut through them had lingered long enough for her to consider it, he knew she wouldn’t have done it. 

So Kylo did. 

She was his wife after all, despite how much they both hated it. He wouldn’t let them get away with bad-mouthing her, especially not when it reflected back on him. She wanted to punish them herself, he knew that, but she was too struck by what they had said. 

His saber cut and cut and cut. All this frustration burned through him like a disease. And then he felt her hand on his arm, hesitant but firm. He looked at her, a strange sort of feeling settling in his chest that he wrote off as being bridled. 

Waiting at her on the other side of the door, he noted her generosity towards the barkeep. Stolen money, he thought with a scoff. There was a lot of things he’d call Sol, thief, assassin, whore, princess, a total disobedient bitch, generous he hadn’t expected. Scheming was also one of the traits he assigned her. She knew the money would be taken from her the moment she stepped aboard the ship. 

She joined him promptly. 

* * *

Sol was sitting on the lower bunk bed, elbows on her knees, hands dangling into the space in front of her, as her eyes remained closed at the headache on her head. They had taken off not long ago. She’d been guided into a tiny room for herself, where she was waiting for Ren to appear and rain punishment down over her. 

When he came in he stood just a few steps inside blocking the door, she noted. She looked up at him and continued staring at him surveying. 

“Was it worth it? Did you get what you came for?” Even with the voice distorter, she could hear the subtle annoyance in his voice. He was curious too, she deemed. Sol licked her lips and shifted from her seated position to stand on her legs, crossing her arms in front of her restlessly. His control was terrifying. Admirable but terrifying.

“Partially,” she answered him. 

“I would have thought you’d make well of the time you had, knowing that I’d find you.”

“I did,” Sol said begrudgingly.  _ I just didn’t think I’d encounter a bigger plot _ . 

“Why did you do it?” This caught her off guard. 

“Would you have given me permission if I asked?”Instead of remaining in defence, Sol could feel herself falling into the familiarity of offence, matching Ren’s strides with her own. “How was I supposed to even ask you when you won't see me.”

His anger was slightly flaring again.

“You keep me as a prisoner! A gilded prison is still a prison. Do you have any idea of how bored I was?”

“So you subdue my men because you’re bored?! You’re nothing but a defiant bitch of a child” He was matching her strides as well, neither wanting to give up. They inched towards each other in their anger. If she was a defiant bitch then he was a controlling bastard. 

“You asked me if it was worth it,” Sol continued, now more silent, standing right in front of him, peering up into his mask. “An inch of freedom is always worth it.” 

“Will you think the same after your punishment?” Ren didn’t back down but he did take a step back, hands gathered behind his back in a display confidence. The muscles in her jaw flickered as she clenched and unclenched it. In all honesty, she was terrified of her punishment, no one  _ likes _ pain when its inflicted in malice. 

Both took a moment to breathe in and calm their temper. Neither of them wanted this situation, to be married. That they had in common at least, and it was slowly dawning of both of them. 

“Why did you do that? Kill those mercenaries, I mean,” Sol asked, regarding him with a watchful eye. There was a pause. He hadn’t thought she’d ask. 

“They deserved it,” was all he said. Speaking ill of his wife was like speaking ill of him. He wouldn’t tolerate that, especially not from vermin like them. It wasn’t a satisfying answer. There had to be more to it, some ulterior motive to defending her honour. Sol wanted to ask him further but decided against it. 

“What did they call you?”

Now it was her turn to pause, looking away and sinking her teeth into the bottom of her lip. Out of all the things she had been called, this was one of the worst. Maybe because the Orian words came to such a surprise to her. She didn’t like to think about it. “Roughly translated its ‘whore from a lineage of disease-ridden whores’.” Her eyes caught his. “It’s one thing to call me a whore, it’s a whole other thing to call my family that.

“Thank you for defending me, even if it was out of self-interest,” Sol said partially reluctant. 

Ren nodded, then turned to walk away, feeling as if the tension in the room had shifted into something he couldn’t recognise and wouldn’t entirely call uncomfortable. 

“Wait,” Sol called, stopping him from his escape. “There’s more.”

Ren turned to find that she had produced three small holo projectors. Concern worked its way into her face, unease weaving into her aura along with slight pride and curiosity, a strange mix. Then again, everything about her was irrational and strange. The holo projectors flickered on and she felt his eyes go from them to her. Ren stretched his back mildly entertained by this revelation. 

“This seems like a _you_ problem.”

Sol scoffed watching the hologram of her face flicker. In the immediate moment she had seen them at first she had been apprehensive and annoyed, this would only cause her more trouble, having a bunch of mercenaries gunning for her. “It is a me problem, which means it’s also a you problem. What would people say if you can’t protect your wife?”

Being a wanted person with a tall reward to her name was not as fun as she thought it would be. It’d be one thing to fight those thugs at The Emissary, it’s a whole other thing to have legions of thugs after her all over the galaxy. And now, when she was more famous than before, it’d be that much harder to survive without any help.

She needed him, even more than before she begrudgingly admitted to herself. And that meant swallowing her dislike for him. 

“I can’t protect you if you keep defying me, acting out like a child,” Ren said accusatorily. Sol wanted to throw that child comment right back at him but held herself back.  _ I wouldn’t have to defy you if you give me some fucking power. _

“I will  _ try _ and do better,” Sol answered reluctantly. Fighting him at every turn wouldn’t work any more, that plan was outdated. Now she had to steel herself. Adapt. 

This was a whole other level of the game, with much higher stakes.


	8. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In wich Sol is punished for her little trip.   
> And you get a look into what was before the slaughter of the royal family.

Kylo regarded her. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. So far she didn’t inspire much confidence in that sector. If she was given any sort power he was sure she’d misuse it. He didn’t trust her. Not in the slightest. But she was his wife, for so much worse than better, and strictly because of that title he’d have to protect her. 

Sol pinched the bridge of her nose, then ran her hand through the white, silvery tangles of her hair, letting out a breath of frustration and exhaustion. “Who’d want to kill me?” She pondered.

Kylo wanted to laugh, no, not actually laugh but he did feel amused by her words. “Who  _ wouldn’t _ like to kill you?” 

“Oh,  _ my dear husband _ , you wound me so,” She sarcastically shot back with an equally sarcastic smile on her face, it was quick and then it was gone, a frown settling on her face. “The Crow. It was them who served me up for the Order.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kylo questioned, eyes going back to the blue faces of her holograms. They weren’t flattering at all. “The Crow operates after a code. If they wanted you gone, they’d have done it themselves.” 

At this, he noticed that she had the same suspicions. She wasn’t sure it was them, even though she wanted it to be, because then the feeling of betrayal and anger had a target. Kylo picked up a hologram, flickering on another picture with her credentials before letting it fall back to showing her face. 

“Vox,” Kylo said. Sol’s eyes snapped to him, sadness quickly flashing in her eyes, then dissipated into a deep hatred. A muscle flickered in her jaw. “You’re an obvious and substantial threat to his reign. Even if he is loyal to the First Order, he’d do anything to protect himself.”

“He’s a fucking traitorous bastard,” Sol cursed under her breath, taking the hologram from him and shutting it off. The both of them knew she’d not get to kill him. Vox was too important a piece to hold, and unless  _ she _ wanted to ascend the throne. By doing that she’d become even more enslaved to The Order. Kylo wouldn’t let her, and the consequences far exceeded a small stunt like this. She was a perfect pawn to hold if Vox resisted control they’d implement Sol as queen and by doing so him as king. There was a far bigger chance of entrapment then. And if she decided to rebel then they’d kill her, and Kylo would remain ruler. He’d have one of the prominent and loyal families to take over the daily workload as a king, they couldn’t possibly expect him to remain there. He was Kylo Ren, after all, apprentice to the supreme leader and he had a war to win. 

“So definitely Vox. But who else would want me dead? The Crow? The resistance? What about General Hux? That son of a bastard would gladly see me gone.”

“The better question is; Who wants you alive?” Both of them looked at the third hologram. In this she was smirking, her falling in waves over her shoulders. It was the most flattering of them all. The reward was just as tall as the others, taller even. Whoever wanted her put a lot of money into getting her alive. Bringing her in alive was far more dangerous than shooting her dead. 

Her eyes connected with his. “You’re right, that is the better question.” 

Sol wandered back over to where she had been sitting, sighing when she sad down and started to rub her temples. She looked exhausted. Good. It was the smallest of punishments but he did enjoy it. And the consequences for her actions, the punishment waiting for her, he excited to see. 

Kylo took her as a person who’d rather face the consequences head on and take them immediately, rather than wait to simmer in the thoughts of coming punishments. And apparently, locking her up didn’t deter her from doing something stupid, maybe this would. He hated her and he couldn’t wait to watch her suffer. 

“Commander Ren, we are approaching the Finalizer,” a stormtrooper said. Kylo cast one disdainful look at Sol’s direction and walked out to handle the landing of the ship. 

No matter what ship he was on, he always wanted to fly it and found it the most comforting behind the controls. That way he wouldn’t die because of some error on the pilots part. He was better than any of them, he knew that. It was in his blood, as much as despised it. 

Kylo manoeuvred the ship into the hangar with practised ease, setting it down with the smallest of trump. Out of the cockpit window, he saw the general approach and already began simmering at the mere glimpse of his pale face and red hair. Switching the last controls off, Kylo got up and went to the landing ramp, where the stormtroopers had fallen into two perfect lines. Up in the front stood Sol, both arms held by the stormtroopers as if it would do anything if she really wanted to get out. He had seen what she was capable of. He had  _ felt _ what she was capable of.

Kylo walked to stand beside her, waving the troopers off before taking her arm himself. His whole hand enclosed around her, his fingers touching. With a rough pull, he sends her forward and down the ramp, meeting the always constipated looking general who flashed a mocking smile at the two. 

“Ah, I see that you found runaway wife,” his condescending voice sounded, eyes going from Kylo to the girl at his side. The general might be good at anything on paper, he may be tactical adequate, but by the force did Kylo want to strike him down on a regular basis. Anger and indignation flared in him, the grip around Sol intensifying.

“Tell me, how did you manage to lose her? Didn’t you have one of your knights watching her?” Hux smirked at his irritation. “Maybe your knight isn’t as powerful as you thought.”

Kylo was about to snap back at him, when Sol’s voice cut through, adopting the same cutting condensation as Hux had. “You’re right, Eon underestimated me. But the real surprise is how I managed to not only overpower your men, but also steal their armour, disguise myself as a stormtrooper and infiltrate a squad to travel millions of lightyears across space where I then continuously slipped past your patrols.” Sol smiled at Hux, sickeningly sweet, then looked at Kylo before turning towards the general once more. Kylo wasn’t sure what to think of this but the corner of his mouth did flicker behind the cover of his mask. She clearly enjoyed vexing the general, maybe more than she did vexing him. 

“It seems to me, General Hux, that you need to look into the security of this ship,” Kylo said, voice distorted and blank. 

“And maybe you should look into disciplining your wife. She makes the Order look like fools and you even more so being unable to control her.”

“Don’t worry about her punishment, I’ll see to that she’s adequately punished for this excursion, if you do the same to your men,” Kylo answered back. “She won’t be doing anything so stupid again.” 

Under his touch, he felt Sol tensening. He could feel her pulse drum through her skin in rapid succession. The muscles in his jaw clenched together. Even without using the force he knew she was apprehensive and worried as to what exactly her punishment was. Through the smallest of glimpses he had caught into her mind the day he forced through the barrier she had put up, told him she had been custom to violence and punishment throughout her years. It didn’t make him pity her as much as it made him aware of how endurant she was. That in itself should earn her a minuscule of respect. Then again, she was a spiteful bitch. 

“Good,” Hux gloated. “But maybe you should take her through the clinic before you do anything, we can’t be sure what disease she might have contained in the time span she was left to her own devices.” 

Sol wanted to punch Hux in the face. Just punch him. One day she might snap and do it, but this was not the day. Not with Ren dragging her with him like some perpetual child. With a huff, she pulled her arm out of his grasp the moment they stepped into the corridor and away from Hux’s eyes. “I can walk by myself.” 

She fell into step behind him, following him to where she expected her punishment to be waiting. By the stars she was tired, exhausted by the day’s adventures and all that it contains, and her headache wouldn’t let up and the alcohol certainly didn’t help. It throbbed in her head. She was sure it wouldn’t be the worst pain.

They walked into a training room, smaller than the grand hall they had fought in for the Ceremony, but still big. Eon stood in the middle of the room, patient and waiting, the same indistinguishable aura around him as if he kept his emotions so far under lock and key that he had none. It was unlike Ren, that always seemed to ripple with rage. 

Sol hesitated a few steps in, registering Eon’s presence and her surroundings. In his hands were two wooden sticks, the size of a small sword or a long dagger. She knew she’d take a beating, it wouldn’t be the first time. The Red Lady always gave two choices, being flogged with tiny little wisps of a stick that first beat you stingingly raw, then slowly tear open your flesh, or the worse option, isolation in a tiny dark room that was soundproof enough to drive you mad. 

Sol being Sol, always choose the direct punishment, finding the other far too torturous. 

“I’ll fight back,” Sol vowed, looking at Ren as he turned to her. She’d take her punishment, but she wouldn’t just stand there, she had done that far too many times. 

Kylo regarded her, measuring. “I didn’t expect anything less.” 

Maybe if she hadn’t been so focused on the coming pain, she’d have noticed the slight tone of respect to his voice. 

Sol took up position in front of Eon, gripping the wooden sticks laid out for her on the mat, giving them a trained toss in her hands to feel them out. Then she readied herself, looking straight at Eon, who remained in the same position as he was in when they came in. Then he turned his mask towards his master, awaiting the go-ahead. 

Maybe it was fitting that he was the one to punish her, since he had been the one she knocked out, and it was just as much his reputation she hurt. Maybe, perhaps, the thoughts didn’t linger, as he descended down onto her with a cold meticulousness, the blow reverberating through his sticks into hers, flowing up into her arms with hurtful knitting. 

“I’m sorry I drugged you,” she said, earning no response. 

Sol managed to escape the first few blows, stumbling and staggering. She could barely feel her hands anymore. Then came a blow to her thigh and she felt the bone inside crack. Biting her teeth together, she let out a growl of pain, air drawn in and let out in an attempt to control the pain. She ducked, rolling over the mat and coming up behind Eon, who wiped around, bringing his foot to her face. The skin on her right cheekbone broke apart, pain sending dots of black and white across her vision. 

If she weren't exhausted, if she hadn’t been drinking… The alcohol slurred her movements, dulled the otherwise sharpness of her brain, and made her weaker to his attacks. She shouldn’t have been drinking, that was her first mistake. Or, she should have drunk more, much, much more. 

Eon remained as collected as always, cold and of stone and metal. With a growl Sol ducked under his attack, landing her first shot at him, the wood sinking into his side. It should have cracked a few ribs, but Eon seemed utterly unaffected. Even when she kicked at his knee there was nothing, not even a sound. Did he even know what pain was? 

Sol let out a half scream as he continued to break her left forearm. The bones shifted under her skin, pain radiating all the way up. It turned her stomach, and for a moment she wondered if she should just projectile vomit all over the knight. Regardless of that though, there wasn’t time. She kept her grip on her weapons, locking arms with him, long enough to sink her teeth into his forearm as revenge. This somehow made the smallest sound come from him, whether it was in shock or pain remained a mystery. Sol had never been above biting, or hair pulling, or whatever else trick she needed to do to win. Much to her parents' disapproval. 

Eon flung her from him, almost sending her sprawling on the mat. She looked utterly wild, white hair in an untamed nest behind her ears, hair sticking out everywhere in tendrils. The dark shadows under her reddening eyes gave her a feral look. Blocking his next attack, Sol kicked at him and found him utterly rooted to the floor. He swung at her and missed her face with mere inches. 

Sol’s next and last blow with her weapons was a risky move, swinging around to gain momentum and bringing the sticks down over his helmet. The wood shattered, exploding into splints. Not even a dent in his helmet. Exasperated, Sol threw the shafts of her weapons away, they held no protection anymore. 

Eon glared at her, then proceeded to toss his weapons as well. This was a surprise. So he wasn’t just a soldier, he held his own strange sort of integrity. With a yell of frustration, Sol attacked him, trying to protect her broken arm as much as she could while also trying to hurt him. Eon took advantage of this, avoiding any and all of her attacks, much to her growing frustration. It was like he knew the way she fought, knew to keep his distance or else she’d climb him like a tree and bring him to his end.  _ He knew her fighting style _ . 

Sol had always excelled in hand to hand, even if she was in a disadvantage. Her fighting style was rare and not widely known, especially outside of Ori. How the fuck did he know how to block her, how to avoid her attacks? Even as she switched tactics he knew what to do. The way he fought was familiar. 

Eon began dismantling each of her attacks by categorically dislocating her left arm. First was her wrist, then a blow to her broken bones in her forearm, then her elbow and then lastly her left shoulder. With all the strength she had left, powered by frustration and pain, Sol struck Eon straight in his chest, this time sending him stumbling back a few paces as if he had been caught off guard by a massive wind shift. Sol also stumbled back with tears stinging her eyes, pain shooting up in nauseating pulses from her arm, each movement flaring up new pain. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” She half screamed half growled at him, right arm holding the left into her body, trying to stabilize the swelling joints. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, a ghastly bruise discolouring the right side of her face matched with equally ghastly bruises all over her body. “Who the fuck- take that fucking helmet off, let me see your fucking face!” 

Eon fell into his usual position, back straight and hands clasp at his sides, mask ever so emotionless. She’d get nothing out of him, not like this, not know. Instead, Sol turned to Kylo with a snarl. “Are you satisfied?” 

“Immensely,” Ren answered cooly. Her black eyes darted over his mask, trying for the life of her to read him as if the metal would give her any indication of emotion. It was only ever his body language that held that only ever his distorted voice, the aura around him, never his fucking mask. And right at that moment, everything was cool and composed. Annoyingly so. 

All the air went out of her and exhaustion interlaced with pain crashed into her like a ship going into hyperspace. It took everything she had at that moment not to pass out. “Are we done? Is this enough? Can I leave?” 

For a heartbeat they stared at each other, then with one nod, he allowed her to go. All the way out of the room she felt their eyes on her, the air tense and heavy. She limped all the way to her room, passing no one, not a single stormtrooper. Instead of being met with complete silence in her room, she was met with the voice of M-8. 

“Oh dear,” the droid voiced, helping Sol to sit down. “You’re in a habit of breaking bones and dislocating joints. I detect multip-,”

“Yes, yes, you detect multiple fractures and dislocations, you don't have to give me the list every time,” Sol bit at the droid, frustration being the only emotion there was aside the pain. “Just, patch me up, please.”

“Well, at least you haven’t lost your manners,” the droid answered back with a huff. It popped her wrist back in place, then her elbow and lastly her shoulder, the exact order Eon had gone through. “Will you take nothing for the pain this time?”

“I-,” Sol began, then thought better of it. “Just give me a little.”

M-8 nodded, then shot her up with a blue liquid that slowly relaxed her tense muscles and dulled the top of the pain. Her body still throbbed, ached, just like her head. The barcta-patches were placed all over her body, slowly mending her wounds and bones. 

“Do the Finalizer have ice?” 

“Ice?”

“I would like an ice bath,” Sol answered the droid. “It’d help with the swelling.” 

“I will have ice send up immediately.” Gradually, Sol peeled off her clothe wet and sticky with sweat. Her breath was strained, held in her lungs in an attempt to lessen the pain as she moved. Getting the shirt over her head and off her left arm was the hardest. The joints were swollen. As much as the barcta-patches placed around her body helped, it was slow and didn’t lessen the pain of moving. The pants were the next tough job. They were halfway down her legs when M-8 returned with buckets of ice in his hands, followed by another much smaller droid with a bucket in each hand as well. 

“Do you need help, Lady Sol?” M-8 asked after pouring the ice into the bathtub. Sol glared up at the droid, then grudgingly gave her affirmation. The dorid peeled the pants off of her, folding them neatly afterwards and placing them on the table at her side. Sol rubbed her thigh, squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation to the move. 

“Will you need help getting in the bath?” 

“No, thank you, I can do that myself,” Sol answered, breathing deeply in and rather clumsy getting up from the chair. 

“And don’t stay too long in the ice bath, or you might get hypothermia and I’d rather not be called back for that.” Sol scowled at the droid, that simply blinked and walked away. With stiff and careful steps she walked into the washroom, finding her bath filled with ice and water, sending a shudder down her back. With difficulty, she unhooked her bra and threw it aside, followed by her panties. Her body was covered in dark purple bruises and blue barcta-patches. 

Looking at the icy waters again, the thought of just walking back into her bedroom and wrapping herself in the blankets almost deterred her. But she steeled herself, breathing in through her nose as her feet sank into the water. 

“Mother of all bastards,” Sol cursed, trying her best to breathe in deeply and then slowly letting out the air again. Instead, her breath kept hitching the more she sank into the water. She was submerged to the start of her ribs, ice collected at the surface, brushing against her as she moved. She began shaking, teeth clattering. 

Fuck it was cold. Every muscle was strained and tense, body telling her to get the fuck out of the water. Sol didn’t move, with one hand gripping the side of the tub, while the other remained glued to her side, hand sprawled over her stomach, she tried to lower herself down a little more. Gradually, she began relaxing, the cold at first painful and so strong it overshadowed the actual pain in her body. Then numbness began spreading, working its way into her swollen joints and tense muscles. 

Sol laid back against the tub, submerging the last parts of her body. With her good hand, she picked up an ice cube and brought it to her bruised cheekbone, sighing at its cold touch. Getting over the initial shock the cold did to her body, it became nice. The ache in her joints lessened. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re going to become a Jedi,” Sol proclaimed, stomping into his room on the space shuttle taking them across space towards the Jedi Temple, towards his new home.    
Jem looked at her over his book, dark eyes rolling at her dramatics, then lowered them again to the page. This didn’t deter Sol the slightest and instead made her step further into the room with a huff. “A Jedi, Jem! What will you do without your family around?”

“Get some peace and quiet,” Jem answered curtly. Sol rolled her eyes and walked to the foot of his bed, taking hold of the iron fastenings. 

“So what? You’ll become a boring, Jedi knight, for what exactly?” Sensing that his sister wouldn’t give up this conversation, Jem let the book fall open on his stomach, in a hope that he’d return to it when she got her fill of answers. 

“First I’ll become an apprentice, then hopefully, a knight.” 

Sol swung around the bed and let herself fall dramatically down on the mattress, pale hair in a glory around her head, or… more like a tumbled mess. “Why?” This question was more serious. 

Jem shrugged, brushing a long lock of his own silver hair behind his ear, it having escaped the confines of the messy bun he had tied it up into. His dark eyes that matched those of his sisters, watched her for a moment, guarded as he always was about his thoughts. “As the third princess, what are your plans? What do you want in life?”

“We aren’t talking about me, I’m not the one giving up my family,” Sol shot back sourly. 

Jem rolled his eyes. “Just answer my question.”

“You answer mine!”

“Sol.”

“Uh, what do I want? Luxury,” She answered him, a little immaturely. “I like our lifestyle and don’t want anything else. Maybe I’ll become an ambassador, I like parties and galas, the politics is a drawback but doesn’t every job have one? I’ll get to see the galaxy. And come home as I please. Unlike you.”

“I’m the fourth prince. I’m as far from the throne as you are. The only possible futures for me is becoming a general to an army that’ll never see war or an advisor to the king.”

“Isn’t that enough?” Sol asked, propping herself up on her elbows to study her brothers face. He looked like their dad, just more feminine, with a fine bone structure, sharp cheekbones, mono lids and fine pointed nose. Despite taking after their father he didn’t hold the same emotions upon his face, there was always a stillness. Maybe it came from being the fourth prince, trained to become a general from childhood, compared to an image of the great kings and generals before him. 

“I want to be something, on my own. I want to become someone who isn’t the fourth prince. I want to become a great legend,” he answered, trying his best to make his sister understand. And to some degree she did. He didn’t want to just be handed a title, he wanted to truly earn it on his own. He wanted to become someone on his own, be  _ enough _ on his own. She understood that of all their siblings maybe the most. They weren’t expected to ascend the throne and because of that they’ve grown up with other titles in mind, other restrictions, never to rule, but to be ruled. 

“And you choose to become a Jedi. I mean, with their thoughts on emotions I think you’ll fit right in.” This earned her a smile. “I wish I had an affinity for the force.”

“Oh, sweet, dear sister,” Jem crooned in mock condensation. “I fear if you had much more affinity that you have for the force, you’d become a Sith Lord.”

“A sith lady,” Sol corrected with a chuckle, wiggling her finger at him. “And oh you are so right. If I could make things move with my mind and wield a lightsaber you best believe I’d make the galaxy quake in their undies.” 

“You’d single-handedly bring the galaxy to their knees. I think we’re lucky you don’t have the force.”

“Okay, but can we talk about you being an apprentice to  _ the _ Luke Skywalker. I mean, as much as I am hesitant-,”

“Dislike,” Jem cut in. 

Sol continued, “ _ As much as I am hesitant _ to the Jedi, I am really excited to meet Luke Skywalker. He’s a legend!”

“He is,” Jem agreed. 

“Are you nervous?” Sol asked, lying down on the bed, head turned towards her thoughtful brother.

Jem shrugged. “I’m not nervous about my fighting abilities, but I am nervous about the other kids. I’m 18, it’s a late start for learning the ways of the force.” 

“You’ll be fine. It took you no time learning the Kurrosi fighting style, I’llya still isn’t fully capable of it yet and she’s spent three years on it. It took you a year and a half,” Sol tried comforting him. Jem laid down beside sol, his legs over the other side of the bed, opposite of her. They looked at each other. There was a sense of understanding. A sense of loss and sadness. “Who will I get into trouble when you’re gone?”

“You don't get me into trouble, you always get yourself into trouble and if you want to drag someone else down with you, you have plenty of other siblings.”

“You’re right, I never could get you into trouble. Kol is much easier to influence.”

“You’re a terrible sister,” Jem said with a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eyes. She knew it was all in good fun. “You have a way of seeking out danger.”

“I  _ don't seek _ out danger,  _ it _ always finds  _ me _ . I’m a magnet for trouble,” Sol answered indignantly. 

“Oh, so the time you snuck out of the palace to roam the streets of Hoshi it was trouble finding you?” Jem narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head, the bun getting torn apart by the friction of the movement. 

“No one would have noticed-,”

“ _ If it weren't noticed you were gone, _ ” Jem lifted a brow. 

“No. Someone snitched on me, maybe it was  _ you _ , you rule follower. I would have been able to get back in if the palace weren't on lockdown,” Sol defended. It had been quite the adventure, sneaking out to walk the streets in the evening, beautiful lanterns in all colours lighting the way and the bustling of vendors trying to sell their merchandise. The only problem had arisen upon returning and finding all gates locked and guarded heavily as well as the walls filled with soldiers. Sol's hand spend the night trying to find a way in, only to be greeted by their mother at the gates at dawn, ready with a lecture on consequences. Upon finding their third princess gone and learning of her deliberate adventure out, the king and queen hand decided that spending a night on the streets were one piece of the punishment she’d receive. 

“You wouldn’t have been caught out if you followed the rules.” 

“Do you ever have fun, Jem?”

“Yes, I find extreme pleasure in your failures,” her brother answered with a mocking smile. With a huff in exasperation, Sol pushed at her brother's shoulder. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“You as well.” 

“You’ll fit right in with the Jedi. Are you sure you’ll be able to live with the luxuries of being a prince?” Jem just smiled at his sister, then turned his head to look at the ceiling. Her brother had never been one to depend on the fineries of prince hood, he didn’t depend on it and could all given, live without. He was a soldier after all. He had to be able to live without. Sol did too, having the exact same training as him, with just the added bonus of learning more about politics, formalities and expectations. Unlike him, she loved to have fine things, loved fashion and jewellery, vain as she was. Also unlike him, she needed her family still. 

“Easily,” he answered. 

“Jem have you see your sis-,” their mother asked, stopping upon the sight of both of her children. With a small smile on her red painted lips, she walked further into the room, both hands clasped before her. Ra’on, the queen and their mother, stood as a beautiful example of Ori and its people, her hair tied up in a masterpiece of silver, simple and yet extravagant, a downgrade of what she’d usually wear to formalities such as these. The dress she wore was also simple, with a deep cut, long sleeves that dragged along the floor, silver, blue and indigo embroidered upon the gleaming fabric. 

“Sol, you’ve yet to dress, and you as well, Jem. Neither of you is presentable.” Jem was the first to get up, pulling the rest of his long hair out of the bun to comb it through and have it set tightly on top of his head, the hair pinned through with a cobber pin. Sol dragged herself out of bed and stretched. 

“It isn’t long before we arrive, Sol. Are you wearing that?” Her mother scrutinised her simple outfit of her training robes, finding them the most comfortable for travel.

“No,” Sol answered grudgingly. Her training robes were of the finest silk, she was sure they’d be presentable for the Jedi. Ra’on waved her child over, taking her in her arm and guiding her out of her brother's room towards her own. Once there, she was presented with a selection of different traditional dresses of the Orian cultural roots. Sol looked at a dress, in particular, eyebrow raised, before asking her mom to stop fussing. 

“Isn’t it too…. Extravagant?” Her mom pursed her lips, eyes narrowing her daughter suspiciously. “You’re not wearing a traditional dress, why should I? The Jedi are a group of restraint and simplicity, if we dress as we’d do on Ori, I fear they’ll take it wrongly.”

Ra’on smiled. “Good, so you have been listening to your teachers.”

“Some things are actually useful.” Ra’on found a dress of midnight blue, with silver embroidery and pearls sewn into the fabric. Its sleeves were long enough to skit over the floor, the neckline modest but the back bare. Sol was guided in front of the vanity, and let her mother comb through her hair, pinning it up with matching hairpieces that looked like her own hair, then decorated it with small blue silk flowers. Her eyes were painted with a simple hue of blue and silver, upper lip as it is in tradition painted blue as well. 

“Are you really going to let him do this?” Her mother took a step back and looked carefully over her daughter, lips pursed and sadness in her eyes.

“It is what he wants,” Ra’on said, focusing on righting the silk flowers in Sol’s hair. “He wants to become a Jedi, to become someone outside of the family.”

“But he’s your son,” Sol whined. 

“He is, and it's my duty to let him go, however, painful it is. We will mourn him,” Ra’on said, voice light with sadness. She caressed the side of her daughter's face, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes. “We will all let him go and mourn him as if he were dead, because to us, he is.”    
Sol swallowed thickly. “Why didn’t the rest of our siblings come? And dad?”

“Because they wouldn’t have been able to let him go,” she answered. Her mom was in pain, she was losing a child without it being dead, but she exerted more strength than Sol had ever seen. A queen must be strong, must be able to mask her feelings, to swallow them down and go through the pain of it. 

“And I will?!” 

A small smile quirked the queen's lips. “Yes, you will, because you have to.” 

Her mother's answer didn’t soothe her the slightest. Queen Ro’an had her ways, she knew her children well and knew that Sol was the only one do it, to endure. As headstrong, reckless and vain Sol was, she was also enduring in a way her other children weren’t. Sol looked at herself in the mirror and copied her mother's regal pose, shoulders pushed back and head held high and strength displayed on her face, then faltered a little comparing herself to her mother. The queen smiled softly.

Lastly, her sword was hung by her hips, the fine wood of the shed decorated with mother of pearl, carvings of ivory, and fine stones. Her mother had her sword at her hip too, this simple white, carved wood and gold brush streaks of writing. Every person on Ori had a sword, when you were born you were given the shaft, then as you grow so should the sword and as you learn, the sharper it’d get. And when you die, you’re buried with it. If you’re the firstborn or the last of the bloodline, you’d get the legacy sword, the sword passed down from generation to generation. It was an ancient tradition. 

They met Jem at the landing ramp, his robes brown and cobber, with hints of olive green tailored into it. It was a clash with his silvery hair, tied in a perfect bun at the top of his head. It was strange to see him in such plain clothes. At his side were his sword, the ebony casing catching the fluorescent lights of the carrier. Ro’an brushed her hand over her son's cheek, smiling fondly at him. 

The hiss of the hydraulics sounded and the landing ramp opened up, light pouring into the carrier with a warm glow, followed by the sight of green and the smell of bloom. Sol’s heart pounded with dread and excitement intermixed. A trail of bumps arose on her skin, feeling the presence of something powerful. 

As they descended the ramp they got a clear vision of their surroundings, grass flowing in the wind, dancing at the behest of a breeze, thick trunks of trees rising from the sea of grass, reaching far up into the sky and spreading out. It was warm and beautiful. Sol’s brows rose upon the sight of the small stone and wood buildings scattered across the grass expanse, covered in green moss and build in the shadow of rising trees. And there, a small distance away, were the temple. It rose from the ground, towering up into the sky along with the trees. Its roof was domed, much like some houses along the deserts of Ori. 

They were greeted by two men, each in robes of brown and sandy, growing long beards of greying, one more groomed than the other. “We welcome you, Queen Ro’an.” Both bowed respectfully. They bowed back equally as respectful. 

“I am Galen Marek,” the well-groomed man introduced, a dark hand on his heart. Sol eyed the other as he introduced himself. 

“I am Luke Skywalker,” he said, nodding to affirm it was true. Sol and Jem glanced at each other. One excited, the other surprised. Sol thought it strange that a man of such a big legend seemed so…  _ normal _ . His presence wasn’t overwhelming. Ro’an smiled courteously at them, then turned to her children, holding out the hand to each of them as she introduced them. 

“This is my son, Jem Ossan and my daughter, Sol Ossan,” her voice was warm. Marek held out his hand to shake Jems, smiling at the boy. Jem smiled respectfully, eyes flicking to each of them and then looking down, as were the custom of Ori. Both of them were higher of rank, elders, just by that they’ve earned respect. Sol was less inclined to give such things, though she wasn’t entirely without it. No one becomes a Jedi Master just like that. And Luke was the biggest legend there was. 

“We’re happy to receive you,” Marek added. “It is an honour, truly.”

“If anyone should feel honoured it should be us,” Ro’an said. “We’ve admired your courage and strength for a long time.”

“Courage and strength can be found in all of us,” Luke answered. Sol looked over the man, trying to read him, understand him, but found nothing. He seemed at peace, though she thought there was the slightest of a teether that leads to something else. While her mind wandered through the stories she had heard, the rumours and legends, the conversation continued around her. 

“Let me show you around,” Marek said and began towards the domes. The party were introduced to a great many huts gathered between the trees, to the rooms Jem would occupy, to different training halls and meditation areas and the kitchens.

The Jedi temple was painted in a golden light of the sun. Inside, the walls were finely sanded, small light fixtures at every few feet. The architecture was beautiful, if not a little archaic. The grand hall was circular, the light passing through small slits in the dome filling the room with a warm glow, plants growing up the pillars. Stone murals blossomed on the floor in striking patterns. Water ran like veins through the temple, the soft melody of it trickling echoing through the large areas. It was truly magnificent. 

“So what do you think?” Asked a mellow voice, coming up beside her to match her slow stride around the room, observing the paintings on the walls. Luke looked at her and she smiled politely to him. 

“If I lie, would you do Jedi mind magic on me to get the truth?” Even though he tried not to smile he couldn’t help himself. Sol could see the amusement in his eyes. 

“Jedi mind magic. I haven’t heard that one before. It’s usually Jedi mind tricks.” He had kind eyes, she thought, kind and weary. The look of someone who’s seen war and death and tragedy. A more serious tone fell over him. “I find that reading people's minds is a violation of their privacy. It is a tool that is useful but should only be utilized with great responsibility.”

Sol pursed her words in thought. “So you’d only read someone's mind if they were your opponent? I can see that it is useful in battle but it isn’t always in a direct battle your enemies are. Would you read someone's mind, a friend perhaps or an ally, if you knew that your enemy was close?”

The question seemed to surprise him. Sol smiled politely at him as his eyes once more read over her, determining what answer he should give. “To find this enemy I’d have to read through a lot of innocent minds, all with their own secrets and thoughts, thoughts that could be deeming to their character if known, those small unregulated thoughts that in reality doesn’t define you.”

“But you’d find your enemy.”

“And violate a lot of people's privacy.” He stopped and they both turned to each other, regarding. “There are other ways to find your enemy. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you should. If you use it for this, you might later convince yourself that you could use it again and then again and again, until you’ve convinced yourself that it is okay. Power like this can corrupt, and is so easy to be corrupted.”

“But in your attempt to not become corrupted your enemy might strike. It might cost you greatly.”

“It might also cost me greatly to do it.”

“So it’s an impossible situation?” Sol asked, brows furrowed. The took up their pacing again, calmly following the circular room, passing ancient tapestries and murals. 

“I wouldn’t say impossible, nothing ever is. I would call it a situation with great consequences.” At this Sol gave him a side eye, silently disagreeing. There are lots of things that are impossible and one of them, as she was learning, was that Jedi more often than not spoke in enigmas. 

“I’ll have to disagree. I think the greatest consequence is not finding your enemy,” Sol said. 

“You’re young, opinions can change.”

“I suppose it’s good I’m not gifted like my brother.” 

“Who says you aren't?”

“Don’t coddle me like that. I’m not a child that didn’t get a present.” Luke scratched his nose, using his hand to mask the quirk of his lips. As much as she didn’t want to admit it she was a little jealous of her brother. It was childish and stupid, and she did her best to rid herself of the feeling. 

“Some are more connected to the force than others but everyone  _ is _ connected to it. I didn’t know how connected I was to the force before I was 19. It shows in the smallest of ways,” Luke preached and not onto an entirely deaf audience. Luke’s blue weary eyes seemed to hold so many secrets, a twinkle of knowledge no one else was privy to. Sol hated it. Hated to be on the outs, hated being in the unknown when someone else held the answers. Curiousness went hand in hand with dissatisfaction. 

“You’re perspective much more than most. I sense that in you.” Sol wasn’t sure what he was saying.

“I thought you were opposed to using your Jedi mind tricks on others.”

“It’s not a Jedi mind trick. It’s rather a feeling.” 

“I don't understand it,” Sol said honestly. The force was this untouchable thing, invisible and yet very real. Like some religions, another thing she didn’t fully understand. But just because she didn’t understand it didn’t mean it wasn’t real. Sol stopped and looked towards her brother. “It’s real. I know that much.”

Luke came up beside her looking the same way as her. Ro’an and Master Marek was talking calmly, bathed in light from above, catching every reflective surface on the queen's clothes. And then there was Jem. He was standing further back, away from the light, a hand brushing against a stone pillar as he looked up marvelling at the structure with the same guarded expression he always wore, yet she still knew he marvelled. 

“He’s a great swordsman,” Sol mused. “He’s a soldier, that is what he was brought up to be. He’ll follow orders, you’ll have a hard time getting that out of him. And he won’t make friends easily.”

“We’ll take good care of him.”

“He’ll be a great knight someday,” Sol smiled sadly. “He’ll be a great student.” 

Luke put a comforting hand on her back, the touch waking her up from the moment she was in. Stepping aside she bowed her head to him, a thanks for the comfort he was trying to provide. She wasn’t supposed to say all of that, Jem hand made his decision and she should respect it by standing firm in his conviction.

“Princess.” Her eyes turned to him. Sympathy was proudly displayed on his face, as well as enough comfort to inspire confidence in his words. He talked slowly, voice warm and kind. “I promise you, I will watch over him like I do all my students. He’s in good hands.”

“I put my trust in you, Master Skywalker.” They both returned to the others.

Sol eventually began to wander off, curious of what else the temple held than what was shown. She wandered through the halls until the began hearing grunts. Like a string tied to her, she followed the sounds, hairs rising once more on her body, electric with restless energy. 

It was a boy. No, not a boy, a man. 2 years older than Jem, Sol guessed, which made him 4 years older than her. She watched him as he swung his lightsaber, its blue glow a blur. Dark hair whisked around his head, curled at the end, thick and heavy. Some of it stuck to his skin. He didn’t notice her presence, nor her surveilling eyes, judging every movement he made. 

He was trying to perfect a move from a fighting style that didn’t fit him. He put too much weight on his toes and didn’t follow the rhythm the move needed to make it succeed. It frustrated him, that much was obvious from the mere sight, but his frustration also seemed to ripple from him. A frustration he tried so very hard to make insignificant. 

“You’re putting too much weight on your toes,” she commented, lips pursed, the upper blue and the bottom blended with the colour of her skin, the slightest of rose breaking through. The man stopped mid-swing, frozen in surprise, dark eyes staring at her as if she had just appeared out of thin air. In a way she had. He shut off the saber.

He righted himself, standing utterly dumbfounded staring at her, then snidely said. “What are you doing here?”

Sol inched in, eyes trailing over his tall body, noting the tension in his shoulders. “You need to center yourself and find the rhythm.” 

“What do you know about it?” He snapped, annoyed by her intrusion. He blew a wild lock of hair out of his face, before electing to run his hand through it in an attempt to get it away from his eyes. Sol noted the smell of sweat and temperament. 

She smiled at him, kindly, then drew her sword to its full length, the sound of the blade being drawn from its sheath a sweet melody to her ears. The man gripped the lightsaber tighter, unsure whether to perceive her as a threat or not.

Her feet were planted flatly on the floor, knees bend a little ready for movement, both hands firm on the grip. Breathing in, she listened to her heartbeat and began a dance of intricate steps, blade cutting through the air with the promise of hurt if she had the intent. Sol stepped around, letting the rhythm of the dance go through her body, giving out small audible breaths when she swung the sword like when you were in a real fight. The dress she wore bloomed around her, making the dance all the more enticing. She felt his eyes on her guarded and observant. Ending the display with the blade pointed opposite the way she was standing, holding it up in front of her face in a defensive stance, their eyes connected. The blade found its home in the seath by her hip. 

“How did you learn that?”

“We’re trained as soon as we can stand and hold a blade,” Sol answered with a shrug and a smile. “It’s all about rhythm and flow. My personal style is much more adaptive to the situation.” She had stepped closer to him, peeking up at his face, eyes going over the fine skin and moles, finding the crooked mouth intriguing. Then she looked down at his lightsaber. “Can I see it?” 

The man hesitantly gave it to her still unsure of her presence. He watched her closely as she inspected the saber, nimble fingers tracing its lines, turning it in the light and a curious smile forming on her lips. There was an ease to her that was a complete paradoxical to his own cautiousness. 

“It was my grandfathers,” he said, offering up the information without being asked. This came as a surprise to him, all the while Sol pursed her lips in thought. 

“It’s heavier than I thought it’d be,” she said, finger tracing over the ignition button waiting for permission to turn it on. With a nod from him, she pushed the button and the lightsaber hummed to life, blue lighting up the nearby objects as it burned. It felt powerful and gave a thrill. “I suppose it’s also good at nighttime, you’ll certainly see a few feet in front of you, though it is also a minus on the front that enemies will see you from a mile away.”

“I don’t have any enemies,” he said simply, voice different from before. 

“And it can deflect blaster fire, so it’s not all bad,” she grinned at him. Holding a lightsaber in her hands, feeling its power hum as she moved it brought her a feeling of giddiness and excitement. As much as she wasn’t a fan of the Jedi Order she had to admit that they had some cool shit. And maybe this new Jedi Order wasn’t all bad. The saber hummed itself off as she pushed the button again before handing it back to the Jedi student. 

“Can you really make things fly with your mind?” Sol asked a bit childish. 

“I’m not a performer,” The man scoffed but was amused. Sol shrugged at his answer, stepping back towards the exit. It was time to go, she had been away from the group long enough and getting caught here with him would undoubtedly have consequences for both of them. 

With a sly smile, she asked; “What’s your name?”

“Ben,” he said, just as rumpled as the moment she came in. 

“It was nice to meet you, Ben,” She said nodding, then disappeared behind the wall, leaving Ben standing dumbfounded in the room staring at the spot she had previously been in. It seemed to empty. He was just about to turn away, when it hit him, he hadn’t asked what her name was. It’d bother him the rest of the day. 

Then as he took up the beginning stance she had shown him, breathing in and out with closed eyes, trying to empty his mind, he suddenly realised he felt oddly at peace. There wasn’t an underlying darkness tainting him, pulling at his anger and frustration, that the emotions had simply silenced themselves, the small voices in the back of his consciousness quiet for the first time in a long while. He shook his head, trying to focus but found his mind kept wandering back to the odd girl. He had never seen anyone like her. 

Eventually, he could concentrate enough to go through the steps, this time perfectly, the dance of swords so easy it was hard to understand what his problem was with it, to begin with. 

Odd.

_ Odd, _ Sol thought as she found her way back to the group. There was something odd about Ben, something she couldn’t put her finger on but still recognize in a way. She shook all her wonderings about him out of her head and smiled apologetically at her mom as she came up to them. 

“I’m sorry, I must have taken a wrong turn,” she said, lying straight through her teeth. Her mother knew, Jem knew and the Jedi with their mind tricks must have known too, though they were far too polite to take up a warning or to write out consequences. 

“It is easy to get lost in the corridors, Princess,” Luke answered kindly. There was something to his eyes, an age far beyond the years he was. 

They ended the tour where it began, by the ramp of their ship and with a sadness that had returned tenfold. Sol stood with her hands clasped in front of her, back straight as can be, throat hurting by her efforts of holding back her emotions. She wouldn’t cry, she’d not disappoint her mom that way. Holding back her emotions always led to a straining pain in her chest, the pain physical, she had yet to figure out how to completely lock them up and rid herself of the pain of them. 

Her mother seemed to have perfected this. Her face remained the same, kind and loving. She cupped her son's cheek brushing her thumb over his skin, a crack in her mask forming as she brought his forehead to hers, closing her eyes. When they parted again Jem stepped back and knelt down, holding out his sword for the queen to take, head bowed and shoulders high. 

Sol clenched her jaw. 

Their mom took the sword from him, bowing to him and the sacrifice he had made. With the sword he had given up the title as a prince, he had given up the title as heir, as brother and son.  _ With the sword, he had given up his life as Jem Ossan.  _ The queen clutched the sword in her hands, knuckles turning white at the sheer force of it. 

“I thank you Master Skywalker and Master Marek for taking in a lost soul,” Ra’on said, turned to the Jedi Masters. She bowed to them and they returned it. “For taking in my son.” She wasn’t supposed to say that, her son in all but life was dead and gone, he had renounced everything and his swords that should have been buried with him, were to be brought back home and destroyed if tradition meant anything. But as a mother, it wouldn’t be that simple. 

Sol looked at Jem who kept up with her in swallowing his pain. His eyes had begun to turn red with uncried tears, the strain his body was under in holding back his anguish showed in the way a vein popped in his neck. She bowed her had to him, nails digging into her skin hard enough to break it. Luke went to Jem laying a calming and comforting hand on his shoulder. Around them more teachers and students appeared, all sympathetic to what was happening in front of them. 

The queen and 3rd princess walked aboard the ship without looking back, the ramp hissing as it closed behind them. There was to be no contact between them, no acknowledgement of Jem as blood. That was the hardest of it all, to know he was alive and still perceive him as dead.

Tears had begun to run down Sol’s face, her mother wiping them away while holding back her own. “You did well, my child.”

The lights flickered at the start of the motor. A vibration brought the ship to life then a sudden jolt as if they were hit, darkness and then light. Sol furrowed her brows, this wasn’t what happened. This was wrong. “Mom?  _ Mom?” _ Sol looked down at herself finding her clothes soaked through. Clouds formed as she breathed out, body shaking in the cold, toes and fingertips numb. She was sure her lips were blue and not because of the makeup. This isn’t what happened. 

The ramp opened slowly, orange and white light pouring in, yet the night sky was dark and ominous. Sol stumbled out into the smoke. The smell of burned wood and flesh turned her stomach and made her eyes and nose sting. Pain and anguish lingered in the air. It felt as if the place was crying out. Her hands barely caught her as she fell to the ground, finding that her dress was no longer there, leaving her bare and drenched. Her heart drummed so fast it was painful. A coughing fit came over her after inhaling the smoke. Orange flames licked at the sky, turning everything in its wake to ash. The small huts were torn to pieces, no, not torn, blown. Some of them had long slash marks burned into their shell. The flames burned the highest from the open dome, pieces of the circular shape missing. Everything must be burning underneath. Despite all the flames, Sol found herself freezing to the core.

She fell again this time over a body and could almost hear the screams. Scrambling to get away she froze upon the sound of a lightsaber sputtering to life. Breathing heavy, she tried to see through the smoke that blurred all that was around her. Not even the light of the flames or the moons could pass through the heavy shroud. Her eyes followed the sound. There, in the midst of smoke and flames were the red crossguard of the lightsaber, dragging over the ground and burning through everything as it came towards her. 

It rose in the air ready to cut her down. 

Sol broke through the surface of the water, sputtering and coughing, the violent motion of it jerking her all the wrong places, leaving an ache to from. She gripped the side of the tub continuing to cough, running a hand over her face and eyes to get the water out. She must have fallen asleep. 

The plug was pulled before she stepped out of the tub, icy water running down over her body. At least she wasn’t that swollen anymore. Pale hair clung to her skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, eyes narrowed in thought. The dream was already beginning to fade in her mind, or maybe not fade but blur. It’s been long since she had dreamed about her brother. It was always the death of her family, her time with the red lady or a nauseating mix of all her pain and fears. 

Then again, why wouldn’t she dream of it? She was married to her brothers killer and actually trying to compromise with him. Actually forming a bond, however wretched, contorted and perverse it was. 

“Fuck me,” she cursed, pinching the bridge of her nose. He was her brothers killer but she needed him. Her life depended on him. And a much smaller part of her, one that she’d neither give voice to or think about, was beginning to  _ like _ him, however, fucked up that was. 

It wasn’t forgiveness, she told herself, she’d never forgiven him nor forget it, but she wouldn't think about it. Compromise. That was what it was. Maybe Jem would understand that the need to avenge their family against Vox were so much bigger than the one towards Kylo Ren. Maybe he’d forgive her. 

Sol dried herself off and headed into bed, wrapping herself in the warmth of her sheets. Would she ever be warm again? Then, as she was falling asleep once more the thought struck her.  _ I wonder if that man got away. What was his name again? _ She couldn’t remember. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to put these two chapters together instead of splitting them up. I know I'm late at posting but here it is.
> 
> I might first be able to post again in some weeks time, maybe first late March. Sorry.
> 
> Regardless of a mini hiatus, I will appreciate that you drop a comment after reading the story, as it's much more encouraging to get as a writer.


	9. Weaponised Seduction is a Double Edged Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of her punishment. A change of games.

Four stormtroopers guarded her door, looking up as she entered out into the corridor. This time she wore a black shirt and long flowy pants, to cover up some of the lingering bruises. And still, she displayed the fading bruises on her cheekbone and the darker inner corner of her eye. It was a reminder to herself and everyone else that she had been punished and the deal was over. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail. 

“Am I not allowed to leave?” The stormtroopers looked at each other, shifting the burden of who was to answer by placing their glances onto the next. It was almost humorous. 

“The General-,”

“Commander Ren has already seen to my punishment I don’t think the General has any reason to doubt his ability to punish his own wife. Did you get direct orders from the Commander?” She stepped towards the stormtrooper that spoke, looking directly at where their eyes should be. “Will you try and keep me here by any means necessary?” The troopers hands inched towards the blaster at his side. “Will you take responsibility for it when the Commander hears of it?” Her dark eyes was sharp, lips sharper and tongue ready with concealed implications. In reality, she wasn’t sure Ren would do anything about her being kept in her room, maybe he’d find it insulting that Hux didn’t trust him to have punished her thoroughly, but she doubted he’d actively seek out these stormtroopers. 

“I think you’ll find it in your best interest to lead me to my husband,” she finished with a curling smirk, then added a polite ‘Please’.

They caged her in, keeping her in the middle as if it would keep her from running off if she wanted to. The maze that made the ship was becoming familiar to her, much easier to navigate than the first time she was allowed to wander about. They were familiar but ever so dull. General Hux really needed to spice it up a little. 

They arrived outside of Commander Ren’s personal training room, the troopers shifting nervously in their boots, afraid to catch the Commander at the wrong time, knowing very well he could cut their life short. Sol understood them and even sympathised with them. 

“I think it's best if you stay out here. I’m sure the Commander is capable enough on his own, and if not, then you’ll be out here to stop me from leaving the room,” Sol said, smiling kindly at them. 

“We’ll wait here,” confirmed the leader and took up position beside the door, the rest of his troop falling in just like him. 

Sol took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and held her head high, then walked in. There were more than she expected. Kylo was training with two masked soldiers, blocking their attack before landing his own. The fight wasn’t serious but it definitely wasn’t trivial either. And the ones he was fighting weren’t stormtroopers. They were dressed in black, their masked reminiscent of their masters, edged and grotesque. Though they wore a lighter outfit than they would be in the field they still wore layers. 

Sol walked towards Eon who was standing at the sidelines watching them fight. She didn’t take her eyes off of them, only glanced up at Eon’s mask before returning her eyes to the fight. He didn’t react to her presence. 

“I wanted to apologise,” Sol began, still receiving the cold shoulder. “When I apologised yesterday it wasn’t sincere and only an attempt to appease you.” Still no reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apology, sincere or not,” he said curtly. 

“Why not?”

Eon sighed with exasperation. “I’m not your friend and we aren’t going to be friends. I’m following orders, nothing more and nothing less. Your apology means nothing to me.” 

“What if I want your friendship?” Sol glanced up at him, trying for the life of her to get a feel of what was going on behind his mask. Nothing. Instead, she felt the usual burning coming from Ren. 

“You mean nothing to me,” he answered with a hollowness that could have a meaning if only she could read him. 

“You’ll have my friendship regardless of you wanting it or not,” Sol persisted. Having someone other than Ren on her side, if she could even get him on her side, would be for the best. The friendship she was seeking wasn’t without limits, it was put forth with the intention of using it to her benefits. If Eon would come to like her she’d be more secure and she’d have an in with the Order and the Knights of Ren, should she need it. Besides, being a Knight of Ren he must have dirt she could use. 

There was a smaller part of her that didn’t offer friendship for the sole purpose of using it. A smaller part that needed someone to connect with. 

Kylo avoided the mace one of his knights swung at him, swinging around taking hold of the knight's arm and locking it over his chest, making sure if the knight moved his arm would break and then brought the sword against the knight's throat. The other knight had been thrown to the floor, one knee and foot on the mat, ready to spring towards his weapon lying in the middle of the mat. 

Sol decided the best course of action would be to haul ass and run. Kylo would slit his partner's throat in one move and be by his weapon approximately at the same time as him. Ren had the upper hand unless the Knight used the force to get his weapon. He didn’t.

She also noted the strange weapons they used. Melee. They weren’t using lightsabers. But they were force sensitive. Then she realised that they were untrained, at least to the extend Ren was. They might be able to use their force sensitivity to their advantage, but Ren was a master. 

The fight was over. 

The eyes of the other Knights had flickered to her throughout the fight. She felt them weigh on her, judging like the didn’t belong, that she was wrong, that she was the enemy. They were as unsure and distrustful of her as she was of them. 

Kylo threw the practice sword to the side and straightened his back, eyes heavy on her. As he walked to her two other knights took up position on the mat before exchanging blows. Sol kept her eyes on him, smiling appealing to him in an attempt to be inviting and open. He’d properly see right through it but it was the thought that counted.

“How did you get here?”

“I told the stormtroopers it was in their best interest to let me see my husband,” Sol answered honestly. Ren looked at Eon who bowed his head slightly and left the two alone. 

“What do you want?” 

“I wanted to see you and invite you to dine with me this evening.” Even if she couldn’t see his face she knew he crooked an eyebrow at her. 

“Because the last time went so well.”

Sol couldn’t help herself, the sides of her mouth turned up in a genuine smile at his sarcasm. “We should try again.” 

He was apprehensive, cautious to her underlying motives. He knew how deceitful she was. This was a game where each opponent though the other more conniving, or at the very least one was, while the other remained much more forward and distrustful than the other. 

Kylo gave a curt nod in agreement. Sol guessed the reason for it was out of obligation rather than curiosity. But, he wasn’t obligated to dine with her, nor was he obligated to even consider any of her requests or concerns. If he wanted she could be a prisoner, truly, in all effect a prisoner is. However, none of that crossed her mind. 

Sol glanced towards the door then back at Ren. “May I stay here and watch?” 

Kylo hesitated. There was a back thought. She’d watch them fight and learn their fighting styles and tricks. It wasn’t entirely out of malice, he thought. This request was out of pure curiosity and the wish for stimulation rather than the confining boredom of her room. 

Again he nodded curtly. 

Sol smiled. 

Two knights took the mat. One with what looked like an executioner's axe and the other with a blunt club. Both weapons were modified heavily and looked just as grotesque as their masks. The battle ensued. Neither letting up. Sol watched them, head tilted to the side in observation, silently combatting each move with one of her own. The one with the club made a mistake and was rewarded with a blow on his sternum with the end of executioner’s staff. It wasn’t a gentle tap either. 

Sol noted that they weren’t using force abilities, not in the same way she had seen Ren use them. While they did have the force it seemed that their abilities have gone undeveloped. The only one showing any remote ability to use the force was Eon and still, he wasn’t as trained as his master. 

When the fight ended in a draw Eon and Kylo took the mat. Eon fought differently from the other knights, far more agile and much less heavy. All the knights moved further from the mat to safety along the walls, Sol did the same. 

They exchanged blow by blow by blow. Eon dodged Kylo’s sword with inches, back arching the wrong way to avoid the blade, then settled back on his foot, paraded another swipe only to swipe at Ren again. Their swords collided, the sound of metal scraping strainfully against each other filling the air between them. 

Ren grabbed a hold of Eon’s swordhand, twisting it away from him while using his much bigger body to pressure Eon back. It was either let go of the sword or break his arm. Eon let go of it, ducked down and began to roll forcing Kylo to let go. He barely got away before Kylo used the force to knock him off his feet again, further away from his sword. 

Sol swiped her thumb over her bottom lip in thought. Eon could go for the sword but it’d be a coin toss whether he’d be able to fulfill the move or not. If he stayed where he was he’d eventually be pressured into combat without a weapon. 

Eon went for it. As Kylo swung at him he launched himself into the air, using his legs as a momentum to spin around in the air, the sword slicing through nothing. Sol knew that move. She herself could do it. But it was so long since she had seen anyone else use that trick. Eon landed on the other side of the sword, quickly, picking up his own to make a move on Ren. 

Over and over their swords clashed together, the sound tickling along her skin and making a shiver run down her back. Eon might be skilled but Kylo… Kylo was masterful. He moved with all power and purpose. There was an intensity with each move fueled by rage. Watching him was like watching a beast, and yet she wanted to move closer, to take a look behind that mask of his. Even with the mask on, she wanted to move closer, despite having been on other end of his sword. 

Kylo finished the match by pressing the sword against Eon’s throat. They both breathed heavily. 

Sol stayed for a few matches more before returning to her quarters to prepare herself for the evening. 

Sol was sitting in front of her vanity looping in a silver earring when he arrived, standing as stoic as he possibly could a few steps into the room. A smirk grew on her red lips. “You’re surprisingly punctual.”

Soft waves of hair falling down her back. When she got up Ren got a good look at her. She wasn’t wearing the usual over the top attire, no this time it was a simple black dress with thin straps and a neckline that left little to the imagination and more to be desired. He remained silent as a shadow. 

“I went ahead ordered extra if you were to join me in actually eating.” Sol gestured for him to take a seat and he did, sitting down to an empty platter that could be filled if he were to take off his mask. He didn’t. Sol took her seat opposite him. 

“Why am I here?” Ren asked in short.

“I thought it’d be nice to have a date night. We’re married after all, it is expected of us.”

“Drop the charade,” Kylo ordered curtly. 

Sol breathed in deeply, then let go of the theatrics and along with it the sharp niceties. “I’m tired. Aren’t you tired?” The wine tasted bitter on her tongue as she took a gulp, placing the glass on the table once more and relaxed into the chair. She might as well be honest. 

Kylo remained a silent statue, reading every expression, every sliver of emotion coming from her. 

“I think we’d make quite a good team if we wanted to,” she continued, a smirk creeping up on her red lips so perfectly painted. There was no innocence to her. Every word and movement were perfectly tailored seduction. “Imagine how much it’d bother Hux if we actually got along.” 

“Haven’t you learned to respect those above you?” Ren said, fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. He was intrigued and the mere thought of annoying the shit out of Hux brought him so much joy. Despite that, she needed to learn proper respect. 

Sol didn’t flinch at the threat to his words and instead shrugged with carelessness. “You and I both know your feelings towards General Hux, I don’t see the point in pretending. You wanted me to drop the charade, it would only be courteous for you to do the same.

“Aren’t you tired of constantly fighting me? To do everything you possibly can to be cross with the other person. I don’t want to fight you at every turn. I’m not saying we should be best friends and braid each other's hair -if you have hair I wouldn’t know.” The last part was said down into her glass of wine. 

Kylo was silent and Sol got the feeling he would be for most of the evening. The usual flare of anger was well contained this time. He was unreadable. And it only made her all the more curious. 

Sol was playing a game, Kylo thought. A very dangerous one. And he wasn’t sure what next move to make. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to her manipulation. She wore it well and wielded it better. But he was the one in power, the one she needed to gain a fraction of that. He’d let her play her game and wait. 

“If we constantly fight we’d be left vulnerable to anyone else,” Sol continued, dropping a berry from her plate into her mouth. She’d push his boundaries, test his limits, that much was to be sure. “If we band together and become allies we’d be much better guarded, and not only from rumours. I’ve got skills that you can utilize. I want to work.” 

“And what skills are that?”

Sol tried to keep the smirk from her lips but couldn’t help the corners of her mouth go up. Slowly, she got up. “ You’ve seen me fight and you know what I can do with a weapon.” Each step she took was slow and calculated, the fingers of her one hand trailing over the surface of the table as she neared him. “And I’m very good at gathering intel by any means necessary.” 

Sol looked over him, eyes trying to catch any and all movement, a sign of what he was thinking or feeling, but he kept his cards close to his chest. With no further reaction she pursed her lips. “What do you want from this marriage?”

His mask turned to her as she came to the end of the table, leaning leisurely against the table, head crooked to the side to further reveal the expanse of the soft skin of her neck and collarbone, begging to be marked. His voice was cold and the answer short. “Obedience.” 

Sol made a face knowing very well that she was incapable of blind obedience. The obedience he wanted was something she was never willing to give again. 

“You know I can’t give you that. Obedience isn’t really my forte.” Sol moved in between Kylo and the table, leaning against the wood as she sat back right in front of him. The movement was inherently sexual, submissive and yet dominant. Subconsciously, Kylo clenched his fists at her proximity. 

“Compliancy, dutiful, submissive, deferential,” Kylo listed off, masked voice hard as stone, unrelenting. I’m not a pet or a fucking soldier, Sol thought. 

“What about compromise?” She asked. “I’ll pick my battles and obey when I can. But isn’t there something else you’d want? Partnership? Friendship?... Love?”

“Love?’ Kylo scoffed, half shocked she could even conjure up such a word. Was she even capable of love? She was a whore, all she could offer was the illusion of it. Either way, he wasn’t interested. 

Sol leaned back on her hands, pushing away the plate to sit back on the table, legs parting open letting the silky dress fall between them bringing attention to how parted they really were. She looked innocent and yet, undeniably sensual. Despite his thoughts, Kylo could feel his body react to her. The clenching of his hands threatened to split the leather of his gloves apart. 

“Maybe not love,” Sol answered, lips somehow seemingly more plump and red than before.

Daringly, Sol pushed her foot up his leg, trying to entice some sort of reaction. She got it. Kylo grabbed an iron hold around her ankle, the force of it making Sol freeze. He looked at her ankle, then his eyes drifted up her leg, over the fabric covering her thighs, wrinkled at her waist, a strap threatening to fall over her shoulder to possibly expose a breast, to her fine regal neck and lastly, her face. 

“You think I’d ever let a whore like you touch me?” His voice was cutting, filled with poison and malice. Kylo all but threw her ankle away from him, standing so abruptly the chair screeched over the floor tethering on tumbling over. He was towering, threatening, a predator ready to tear her apart. He wanted to hurt her, to lash out.

Sol felt as if she had a whiplash, eyes turning big and mouth parting. Then anger began to simmer. Her finger trailed back and brushed against the silver knife, not that it would do anything. 

“You’re a whore-,”

“And you’re just a creature in a mask!” Sol spat at him, matching his anger with her own. There could be two playing that game. “Too cowardly to show you face-,”

The mask hissed as it opened, a whiff of oxygen wheezing out of the visor before it was pulled up over his head, the heavy mask coming to rest in his hand by his side. Dark hair fell around his long pale face, looking soft to the touch. Sol’s anger had vanished, replaced by utter surprise and awe. The air had shifted, the game of malice paused. 

Sol watched her husband for the first time. He wasn’t what she had expected. She didn’t know what she had expected, but this really wasn't it. This was a man her age, with eyes almost as dark as hers, but far bigger and rounder, and uncertain. Small marks and moles dotted his face, a pattern that could be stars. It was his mouth that was the most interesting, crooked and holding all the emotion. Now she knew why he used the mask. The tension in his mouth would reveal his thoughts and with his eyes… He was readable. Despite how much he tried to reign in his emotions. 

Sol pushed herself off the table, rising to her feet and coming closer to Kylo. As she studied him, he studied her. Uncertain, afraid. Sol’s face had morphed into curiosity in its purest form. No longer were there traces of deceit. The sincerity made his heart strain. 

Slowly, she raised her hand to touch his cheek, to really confirm this was happening. His eyes darted to her hand but he didn’t move. Not until it was mere inches from him, the heat of her skin radiating into his. That was when he felt it. His eyes darted to the door, then back to her and he stepped back out of her reach, in one swift motion putting on his helmet once more. 

Seconds after the door whooshed open and in came a stormtrooper. 

“General Hux wishes to see you, Commander Ren, it is of importance,” the stormtrooper voiced quickly, eyes averted from the scene in fear of repercussions. 

Kylo didn’t say another word, he simply just straightened his back and walked out, trousers strained and uncomfortable, with a churning of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t look back. The stormtrooper scurried after him. 

Sol was left staring at the spot he once obtained, feeling that it was oddly empty. She hadn’t expected him to be so… young, with such uncertain eyes, soulful even. The tables had been turned, the game falling into a whole other playing field. Things had changed between them, she could feel it. She was getting under his skin. 

Sol pushed all the smaller voices from her head, all the sillier thoughts, and gained a calculating smirk on her lips. Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked to her own chair, fingers once more playing along the top of the table. 

So there was a man underneath the mask. 

She thought of his reaction to her wanting to touch him. He wasn’t used to gentle touches, or to be touched at all without it being painful. It was quite sad. Starving for touch was painful in a way you don’t realise, it isn’t something you think about, it is underlying and masked in other feelings. She knew it very well. Wickedly, she thought of how to use it as a weapon against him. But she knew the danger in it, knew that she herself might fall victim to the touches she also longed for. It was a double-edged sword. 

Things had changed. And as wicked as she had to be, there was a smaller part of her that felt genuinely curious of the man. Kylo Ren might be more human than she initially thought. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has been a long time coming. I'm already working on the next chapter. Please, if you have any thoughts or theories then leave a comment!
> 
> Also! This is my playlist I listen to when writing; https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6VnV1Z4ss0SrJ9ZoOzq6DY?si=sywEOHWwSBu3cyBv8Sg-tA


	10. The Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Sol have a training session

“You summoned me,  _ dear sweet husband _ ,” Sol said as she came into the private training room of Ren, making sure to sound as dramatic as possible. Kylo was standing in the middle of the room, hands folded behind his back in a true soldier posture, helmet catching the light. She could almost see him roll his eyes. 

It was his first day back from a two day operation. Time in which they both continued to contemplate the other. Time where they both tried to assemble their walls. 

“You can take off your mask,” She said, moving further into the room. There were the slightest of movement, a quirk of his head as he thought about it, hesitant. Then he reached up and unhinged the damned thing, the hiss of oxygen escaping sounding. The helmet was placed on a table. 

Sol studied him again. She hadn’t expected that he’d actually do it, that she’d only meet resistance and that hard cold expression of the mask. He looked just as pretty, with the wave of dark hair, the crooked mouth holding all the tension and eyes a deep brown, seemingly darker in the shadows of the room.

“You will begin training,” Ren said making Sol’s eyebrows quirk up. 

“Training?”

“I can’t have my  _ loving and devoted _ wife be vulnerable and lacking,” he answered with short precision, brandishing the same weapon of words as Sol had used. 

Anger bubbled forth in her chest, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. “Oh, I am so sorry my performance hasn't been on par with your high expectations, it's not like I haven't spent days being tortured brutally or been impaired in any other way.” 

“That is no excuse.” Sol stared at him in disbelief, then caught onto the sudden straightness of his back. He was saying something he himself had heard many times before. The realisation hit her.

She bit back her biting remarks and conceded. 

“You’ll be training with me or my knights,” he continued. “Both physically but also in the force.”

“The force?” Sol’s mouth parted in surprise. He wanted to train her in the force? “But I’m not… I’m not force sensitive like you. I can’t read people's minds or make stuff fly. I don’t… I’m not…” 

_ I’m not my brother. _ The words hung heavy in the air between them. A knot formed in her chest, the tang of panic straining her heart. 

Kylo remained passive, even though he had removed the mask, he still wore one meticulously crafted and still, it had its cracks, it wasn’t perfect. If Sol put her mind to it, she might have seen what hid beneath, but she was too consumed by the past. 

Panic turned to irritation. “You don’t exactly have a good track record with other force sensitives.” 

_ My brother for example, who died by your hand _ . Unspoken but there. Kylo bore the words on his shoulders, made them into a shield for protection. He knew what he did. Knew how many he had killed that day. He was used to being called horrible things, a monster, a creature, traitor, bastard, evil. The Jedi Killer. 

“You might not be as force sensitive as me, but you  _ are _ force sensitive. You’ve acknowledged it yourself. You’re untrained but have potential.” 

Sol reigned in her anger and swallowed it down. She couldn’t afford to lash out at him and undo the progress they’ve made. Even if he was her brothers killer, she couldn’t do anything about it. They were married by blood and sword. He was her lifeline. And Jem had renounced his family, even if she wanted to avenge him she had no right. He was her brother but at the same time, he wasn’t. 

And he was dead and gone. She was still alive and had to stay that way to avenge the rest of their family. 

“So you will teach me the way of the force. Isn’t that a little reckless,” Sol commented, turning the conversation lighter. She quirked her brow teasing. “What happens when I can wield the force? Make things fly and read minds. I might not need you anymore.”

There were the smallest of turns to the corners of his lips and his eyes crinkled just a tiny bit. “You wouldn’t stand a chance. You may be a force sensitive but you’re never going to be able to defeat me.” _ You will always need me. _

“Maybe not with the force,” Sol mused with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “When will we begin training?” 

“Now.”

“I’d prefer we’d begin with the physical part of training.” 

Kylo nodded shortly and turned to walk towards the wall of weapons. Sol stopped him with her voice. “No weapons and no mask either. Just us.” 

Now it was Kylo’s turn to raise his brow. “You want to fight hand to hand?”

“Yes. And you might want to lose that,” Sol gestured to his heavy coat and weaved armour, then towards herself and her light shirt and pants. “Get up.”

His dark eyes narrowed a bit, unsure of what to do. His clothing was specially tailored to him so that he could move in it with agility during fights, but also offer enough protection against potential threats. He had already removed his helmet and now she wanted him to remove his last piece of physical protection. 

Then again, she was right. If they were to fight hand to hand, the attire he was wearing would slow his movements down and dull his ability move as fast as he needed to avoid her specific fighting style. He had seen how she fought, felt it himself. 

But he also knew she was manipulating the situation in her favour. She wanted to get under his skin, more than she already had. She was a conniving manipulative woman and everything she did, she did to turn things to her advantage. That was his impression of her. He had to be careful. 

Kylo stripped himself of the overcoat and the big waistband, the cool air of the room seeping in through the tunic he wore underneath. 

Sol observed him. It was strange seeing him like this. He seemed more of a boy than a monster with his hair ruffled up, the tunic halfway open at the neck and crinkled, the ghost of his collarbones revealing themselves. 

“You can stop staring now,” Kylo said curtly. 

“I was just waiting for horns and a tail to pop out, maybe even fangs.” Now, for the first time, she was witness to him rolling his eyes at her. The gesture made her almost forget that as human as he seemed, he was still a monster. 

They took up positions on each end of the mat, preparing themselves for the fight to come. Sol would exert some of her frustrations on him, all the pent up tension that she had swallowed down, she would win this fight she thought. She had to. 

And just like her Kylo thought the very same. 

Kylo made the first move, fast and clean, reaching for her only to find air. Sol had ducked under his arms, twirling around to his backside to land a kick on his back. Kylo barely stumbled forward, turning around and grabbing hold of her leg as it came towards him once more. His other hand took a hold of her shoulder while she balanced on one leg. It seemed to simple to end this fight there, when she too grabbed a hold of his collar, lifting herself off the mat by locking her legs around him and then got up close for a mere second before rocking back with as much force she could, letting Kylo tumble over. 

Sol made sure he landed on his back, straddling his chest with a smirk plastered on her lips. Out of all 8 of her siblings, Sol had always excelled in the field of hand to hand combat. Mun mastered the Siwoo fighting style with his sword, Kol and I’llya had their spears, Jem his dual swords, Allora her bow and Sol hand to hand. Each of the 9 siblings was good with swords, some mastered more fighting styles than others and some prefered other weapons, but the sword where always at their core. 

Kylo used his strength to throw her off of him, quickly rising to his feet only to be met with a leaping Sol that climbed him like a tree, wrapped her leg around his neck and used her body weight once more to throw him off his feet and onto the mat, rolling off of him even though she could have stayed. 

She wasn't done playing with him. 

He didn’t allow her to throw him around again, annoyance fueling his actions to grab a hold of her, placing his foot on her chest as she had done so many times before and kicked her away. Sol stumbled into the wall, barely ducking as Kylo followed with a solid swing of his arm. 

They would dance like this, throwing each other around like a doll, kicking and punching, ducking and avoiding. A dance of violence without a blade to end it all. Without a blade everything was dulled, a punch hurt but it didn’t cut, a kick raddled bones but it didn’t stab, there was no aiming for the heart or cutting at the throat. It was a bruising, bone clattering fight, but the end of it was not to kill the other. It was to win. 

Both gleamed with sweat, running down their noses, pearling at the nape of their necks, hair sticking to skin, Kylo more than Sol since her hair was braided away from her face, still, small strands had managed to escape giving her a winded look. Neither relented. 

It was time to end this fight. 

Kylo hand his arms wrapped around her, one of her own held behind her back much like the way he held her during their wedding ceremony. This time, however, his arm was far closer to her mouth and she took advantage of it by sinking her teeth into his skin. Surprised by the action Kylo let go, staring at the teeth marks on his arm in bafflement and utter disbelief. 

“You bit me,” there were neither anger or disdain in his voice, just bewilderment if not a little amusement.

Sol took this opportunity to kick the feet out from underneath him, sending his massive body to the mat with an ‘oomph’. She was over him like a predator on its prey. From the side of her boot, she produced a small knife, pointing the blade to his throat, while locking his one hand with her foot and the other with her free hand, essentially pinning him down. 

“Cheating,” Kylo grumbled with an upward turn of his lips, eyes gleaming. 

Sol shrugged with a wicked smile on her lips. “I’m not above playing dirty.”

“Then neither am I,” Kylo said simply. Without a second to ponder over his words, Sol felt a force collide with her that send her flying through the room with a surprised squeak. The mat caught her in its hard arms, air wheezing out of her lungs. It wasn’t the first time she had been thrown, she knew how to land and how to quickly get on her feet again. 

She only got to her feet when her whole body froze in her place, muscles straining and shaking at the sheer force pinning her to the spot. Air came out in small pants as she fought the invisible hold on her body. Within her chest her heart hammered rapidly, shooting adrenaline around her body in an attempt to get her moving. Nothing worked. 

Kylo came striding over, hair hanging heavily around his face, sticking to his neck and forehead. His brown eyes held an esteem to them, the esteem of someone knowing they had all the power, a predator cornering its prey.

Sol couldn’t even hold it against him, not really. Winning by any means necessary were something she had learned to survive. If that meant cheating then so be it. 

“Y-you know I’d have won had you not used your space wizard powers,” Sol managed to say. 

“Space wizard,” he repeated as if he had never heard it before. Maybe he hadn't. It amused him a great deal. That despite being powerless she still had that sharp tongue of hers. 

Sol breathed relieved when he let go of her, testing out her muscles and massaging the ones that had begun to ache. The knife was slipped down into her boot once more. “You’re surprisingly agile for someone so,” Sol gestured to his tallness by extending her hand as far as could above her head. “So big.” 

Sol picked up a towel from the corner of the room, drying off her face and sitting down in the middle of the room. Kylo joined her. Just the two of them sitting there, trying to control their heavy breathing and feeling the cold creep up their sweat-covered skin, it almost seemed like they were friends, -like it was normal. 

“How exactly am I to be trained in the way of the force?” Sol asked, drying off her chest and bringing attention to her cleavage. 

“Meditation and practice,” Kylo answered. 

“Meditation?!” Sol almost exclaimed, then broke out into a grin over the absurdity of it. “If my parents were still alive they’d tell you good luck with it. I’ve never been good at meditating. I don't have the attention span for it, I either get bored and begin thinking of all sorts of things, or I fall asleep. Quite literally. Jem, Mun and Allora were always better at it than the rest of us.”

Her smile faded upon realising her words. Without thought or ulterior motive, she had given him a piece of her past. It wasn’t that what she said made her sad, it was that it had come so naturally, so openly. For a moment she had forgotten to be cautious. 

“I can’t promise you I’ll progress or I’ll ever be able to make things fly,” Sol continued, trying to shake the panic. No, this wasn’t all bad, she thought to herself. If she were going to get close to him and using him as she wanted, she’d have to sacrifice parts of herself. 

Kylo didn’t say anything. He just observed her. If he wanted he could break into her mind, or at least try, to figure out what was going on inside of that head of hers. The weary feeling he always got around her remained, the cautiousness he so easily wore as protection. He couldn’t trust her or anything he said because she wanted something and he knew she’d do anything to get it. Revealing parts of herself he had expected but he didn’t expect the earnasty in her smile or the flash of terror she got when she realised what she said without an afterthought. 

He observed the shift in her as she came to terms with it and began spinning her web of manipulation. The slipup had become a throwaway card. 

There was something deep down inside of him that twisted and turned, annoyed that she was his enemy, that he couldn’t trust her, rather than be angry over her presence. Slowly, he was beginning to understand, still begrudgingly so, that Sol could be an asset if only he could trust her. 

“‘Making things fly’ isn’t all we do,” Kylo commented. 

Sol rolled her eyes. “No, you can also read minds and freeze people.”

“There are a lot more abilities that come with the force.”

“‘The force works in mysterious ways’ isn’t that what they say? I doubt I’ll ever be able to use it, so don’t get your hopes up, I’m far better at cutting throats and stealing information.”

Kylo shook his head, trying to keep a smile of his lips. “You’ve used the force before. It’s your intuition, the way you read people, the way your body reacts.” 

“What does it feel like?” The question was genuine. Sol had almost a childish curiosity to her. 

Kylo’s dark brows furrowed unsure how to explain it. He had been taught in the way of the Jedi, to swallow his feelings, never be angry or lash out, but now… Now he was always angry, the rush using the force brought him, a release he sorely needed. “Powerful.”

This sparked a wicked interest in Sol’s black eyes. Power was all she wanted. Power enough to finally feel safe. Power enough that no one would be coming for her. It was the only way to be safe. And if getting that power meant backstabbing and manipulation, then she’d do it. 

In that moment Kylo got another piece of the puzzle that was Sol. 

* * *

Sol watched as servants moved her things into Kylo’s room. There was a stark difference between her colourful things and Kylo’s barren room. There was nothing personal throughout the rooms, no hint to anything meaningful. While Sol basked in expensive luxuries and vanity, Kylo left an emptiness in his wake. 

Then again, there was the one single room she was apparently not allowed to enter. The door was locked. She had wondered what he had to hide in there. Skeletons in his closet, no doubt. But who’s skeletons? Her curiosity reared its head but she had swallowed it down upon the sight of the bed. 

She had stared at the huge bed and felt incredibly, -and surprisingly like she was intruding. Her goal  _ was _ to get in that bed but now that she was looking at it, it felt like an intrusion, something neither was ready for and if she pushed too hard then everything she had worked for to get to this point was flushed down the drain. 

Instead, she had taken up place by the huge window revealing the brilliant stars and nothingness of space. By the windows feet were a padded area mean for sitting, there she had made herself a bed of silk and other lavish materials, a bright nest in a room of nuanced greys. 

When everything had been moved, Sol made her way to the bridge. 

“Lady Ren,” General Hux greeted upon seeing Sol. She had planned to spend some time talking to some of the officers. 

Sol smiled cooly at Hux but smiled nonetheless. “General.”

“Just the lady I was looking for.”

“Oh?” The gleam in his eyes was not one Sol could say she cared for. No, it only meant trouble and it wasn’t like she hadn’t gotten enough of that lately. Hux gestured for Sol to follow him into a room meant for meetings, isolating them from the bustle of the control room. 

Sol pursed her lips, hands running over the deep purple fabric of her extravagant dress as her eyes scanned the room for possible ways to escape as they always did. Hux came up behind her, letting a datapad slide over the table to where he took up a seat. Sol sat down opposite him, holding her head high, the black of her lips held in a tight purse, while her eyes remained narrowed. What did this pasty noodle want? 

“I have a job for you,” Hux explained with the same voice he uses to address his subordinates, Sol couldn’t say she cared much for it, it always sounded degrading. “I think it’s time to use your specific set of skills.” 

Sol clenched her jaw unsure which of her specific skills he was referring to. Assassination or prostitution. 

Hux’ fingers clicked over the screen of the datapad, taking his sweet time. Sol wouldn’t put it past Hux wanting to use her as a whore to gather information but she was sure that Kylo wouldn’t allow it, not because he wanted her to himself but because it’d degrade him. Sol wasn’t above using sex as a weapon either but it was entirely different when someone else takes that choice away from you. It would be on her terms and her terms only, not someone else's. 

“I believe you know this man,” Hux said with such disgusting glee Sol almost turned her nose at him. “A resistance recruiter. You’ve met. Friends I believe.” 

The datapad was slid over the table to her. Upon it was a picture of Vic, with information of his credentials and affiliations out in the side. 

_ Victor Turner, Vic, recruiter of the resistance, low in the hierarchy, may have possible information vital to finding the rebel base. Last seen on Corellia, at the bar of ‘The Emissary’. Connections to much of the underworld.  _

“Acquaintance,” Sol corrected. “I suppose you still think I’m a resistance spy.”

“Ren is much more… Trusting of you, that I think he should be,” Hux’s voice was all snide and malice. Sol almost wanted to snort at his words. Trusting? Kylo Ren didn’t trust her at all. 

“So this is a test?” 

“You could say that. I want you to hunt him down and bring him back, dead or alive but preferably alive.” 

Sol breathed in and leaned back in her chair, nails drumming at the table in thought. She could jump through burning hoops and bring him the head of Leia Organa herself and Hux would still think she was a spy. “And what exactly do I get out of it?”

“You’d work towards gaining my trust,” Hux said as if it was payment enough. Sol shook her head, the hairpieces of silver and blood red stones chiming as she moved. 

“As much as I long for your trust, I need something more substantial. ” Sol bargained, lifting her one hand and grinding three of her fingers together in the universal signal for money. Even though she hadn’t need for money, she still wanted to get paid. As vain as she was, she could use some new dresses, having worn most of them multiple times and if not that there were other more important things she could use them on. 

Currency had its own power.

“I mean, I’ve got a bounty on my head, sending me out there is tempting fate. You’d almost think this is a way to get rid of me.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way. 3000 credits upon your return,” Hux conceded not in the mood for bargaining.

Sol’s eyes returned to the datapad, reading through the notes with an increasing frown. “You have no current lead other than the a note saying Batuu. Vic could have gone anywhere from there. There’s no useable information in this.”

“See it as an opportunity to expand your skillset.”

“I’m an assassin, not a bounty hunter, it’ll be faster to contact the guild.”

“And yet I give it to you,” Hux shot back. “You’ll be whatever I pay you to be.”

Sol sneered at him but kept her words to herself. Instead, she began planning how to approach this task. Usually, she had more to go on and her handler, Deacon, would have compiled a whole list of usable information and if that weren’t enough she always had contacts to pull on. But this was different. The Order had time and resources to compile enough information to make this easy, Hux just wanted to be a bastard asshole. True to his character. 

Perhaps they could have been allies if he weren't so fucking sly. 

At least she knew how he’d be at all times, whereas Kylo was unpredictable. 

“I’ll need a few stormtroopers and some-,”

“You get a ship and a pilot, nothing more,” Hux cut her off. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Now, will you excuse me, I have another meeting.” 

The moment the door closed Sol pinched the bridge of her nose and went to work. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always your comments and interest is what drives me.
> 
> These are Sol's siblings; (in birth order)  
> Mun (crown prince)  
> Allora (1st princess-to be queen if Mun doesn't survive)  
> Kol and I'llya (twins, second prince and princess)  
> Essus (3rd prince)  
> Jem (4th prince)  
> Sol (3rd princess)  
> I'liso and Ji'ia (twins, 5th prince and 4th princess)
> 
> Sol is 4th in line to the throne. We won't see much to all her siblings, but they will make an appearance in flashbacks in later chapters. Just, if anyone is actually interested.


	11. Mini Chapter: Force Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol has her first force session with Kylo. It isn't exactly easy.

It’d take some time before her contact would return with an answer as to Vic’s location and in the meantime, Sol was summoned to Kylo’s private training room with the note that they’d begin force training. She wasn’t exactly stoked. Nevertheless, she complied and entered the facility. 

Kylo was already there, the mask placed on a mantle to the side, revealing that serious face of his. In the middle of the room, there was placed a square table, each side equally long to the others, a mat on the surface. 

Kylo looked up, not smiling but at least not glowering at her as he used to. Sol approached the setup with suspicion. 

“Please, sit,” Kylo said, motioning to the table. Polite, how uncharacteristic. Sol followed his orders with minor hesitation, climbing onto the mat on the table, folding her legs under her and resting her elbows on her knees, the same position she had learned as a child. Though now, there was no family surrounding her or a teacher asking her to straighten her back. 

“Tell me, what do you know of the force?” Kylo asked, hands folded at his back. Sol’s eyes narrowed, unsure if it was a trick question. 

“I know it’s all around us. Invisible,” Sol explained. The force was such an abstract thing it was hard to explain, even more so when she wasn’t sure how it was. It was much easier to put your faith into something substantial, something you can see, feel or touch. Like the sword. She believed in that. In the power that is physical strength, like most Orian’s did. But then again, she also believed in the invisible curse that’d be laid upon her and her bloodline was she to kill her husband, the person she now shared a blood bond with. Curses were just as abstract. 

“The force is in everything, it’s current flows through life itself. The force is what connects us. If wielded correctly it can bring you great power,” Kylo continued, beginning to walk around her. “There’s the force in all living things called ‘the living force’”

“How original,” Sol mumbled under her breath. 

Kylo disregarded her words and continued. “And then there is the ‘cosmic force’ that is the connection I told you about.” 

‘Cosmic force’, ‘Living force’, it was all the same to her. It was an invisible threat she couldn’t see, couldn’t feel and wasn’t sure she wanted to connect to. Most of those who were connected to it seemed to her to have been corrupted in one way or another. Whether it’d be the obvious Sith or the less obvious Jedi. Both of which had a history to go to the extreme at each end of the same spectrum. As if it’d balance it out. And balance wasn’t that what the Jedi always talked about. How can you balance when you stand on the edge of the spectrum? 

“What about balance?” Sol asked, eyes following Kylo as he came to her shoulder, slowly passing in front of her once again. 

“Balance is something the Jedi uses to lower your potential. Like in all else, the Jedi were weak and afraid of power,” Kylo almost snarled, the hint of bitterness shining through his voice. “They put chains around your wrist used to weigh you down all the while telling you it's what has to be done.” 

Sol furrowed her brows at his last sentence. It was strange to finally agree on something. He has stopped in front of her, eyes meeting hers. 

“Close your eyes and tell me what you feel,” He said now much softer after having reigned in his flaring anger.

Sol did as he said, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What did she feel? It was a good question. “I feel… I don't know. What do you mean?”

“I mean what do you feel? Physically, emotionally. Use your senses,” Kylo elaborated, just barely. 

“I feel chilly, the temperature is low. And I feel tired from chasing leads all day.”

“What else,” Kylo asked, a slightly annoyed tremor coming to light in his voice. 

“I smell… woody, like a forest and I can hear the slight hum of the ship.” 

“What else?”

“You. I can hear you walk around me, each step heavy, the fabric of your clothes moving and feel the slightest disturbance in the air. I can feel you looking at me, judging,-”

“Observing,” Kylo cut in.

“Staring,” Sol continued firmly, slightly annoyed with this exercise. “And I can feel my own breath, the air fills my lungs and my heart beating in response. I’m tense and feel like this exercise is stupid.” 

“What else?”

“What else is there?”

“Can you feel the force flowing all around you?” 

“No.” Sol scrunched her face as she tried to reach out, mentally picturing herself reaching out to some invisible force but ultimately coming up with nothing. There was nothing, as there usually was. She didn’t understand what exactly she should be connecting to and the overwhelming nothingness only made her more annoyed and tense. 

“Then let's try another way,” Kylo said. “Connecting with the isn’t only achieved through meditation and control, but also emotion. Emotion can boost the connecting, it can drive you forward and fill you with a power never felt before. It is stronger and better than any Jedi mantra about control.”

A pressure formed behind her eyes, pushing in on her. Her pulse quickened, a spike of fear shooting through her at the familiarity of it. He was trying to get into her head. The headache escalated. Tension building throughout her body, nails digging into her knees as she braced herself, her shoulders rising in a subconscious attempt to protect her neck. 

“What do you feel?”

“I feel like I want you to stop trying to pry your way into my head,” Sol bit out. The pressure only increased. 

“I wonder what your brother would say if he knew you were married to his killer,” Kylo baited. “Do you want to know how he died?”

“Stop.”

“I gave everyone a choice, join me or die screaming. Your brother chose death, like a coward. He begged to be let go, to return home, but I cut him down. He screamed did you know that?” Tears began to build up behind her closed eyes, anger and sorrow flooding her system. Jem. It wasn’t right. None of what he said was right. Her brother wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t, couldn’t be. Before she could examine his words further Kylo continued. “And what would your family say? What would your mother say about all the things you’ve done? About your occupation as a whore? How you spread your legs and opened your mouth for anyone willing to pay. Would they be proud of you? Or would they shun you?” The dead doesn’t get to have thoughts and opinions. They don’t get to judge how I survived, Sol thought miserably, not fully believing her own thoughts. They’d be happy I’m alive, that is all that matters. It is all that matters… They’d want me to get revenge.

“Stop,” Sol croaked. 

“What would they say if they knew you’d married into the First Order, married the Jedi Killer that murdered your brother? Would they understand? Would they applaud your ambition? Or condemn you for it?” Kylo got close to the shell of her ear, the loose hair tickling at her skin and took a breath, the heat radiating from him. “What’d they say when they realised that you liked it, that you’d do anything for your own selfish gain?” With each thing he said, Kylo managed to pull forth a memory, a snapshot of her family, of all the things she had done, of working under the Red Lady, of everything he could get a hold of. It was like pictures flashing before her eyes, distorted and barely there. 

Sol sprung down the table and pushed at Kylo’s wide chest, fury and humiliation raging through her system. She had nothing to apologize for, she had survived by any means necessary, it wasn’t fair of the dead to judge her for it. And it wasn’t fair that she should feel ashamed for liking anything or becoming how she is now. She should be proud and confident, and usually, she was. But now, with the infuriating pressure in her head made it call crumble around her. 

Kylo had gotten under her skin. He had baited her, she knew that he had gotten the reaction he wanted. 

“Fuck you! You don’t get to go tearing through my head as you please and you don’t get to judge me.” Sol pushed him out of her way and headed to the door, her body vibrating with anger and swallowed cries. How was this training? 

“You did a good job,” Kylo commented behind her, efficiently stopping her in her tracks. She blinked a few times, brows furrowed and hands opening up to reveal red half moons on her palms. The anger was still there, kindling within her chest, but she felt herself release a breath and with it most of the tension. Without another word, Sol turned on her heel and marched back to the table, climbing onto it and sitting down in the same position as before, determination and spite glowing on her face. They looked at each other for a moment. 

“Again,” Sol ordered. 

Kylo simply nodded, curiosity and respect showing openly on his face. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for my avid reader N who ALWAYS leave comments on the chapters and gives her opinion and look on everything and I love it. Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Next week: Sol goes in search for Vic and some shit goes down, but are they lies or is it the truth?? DUN DUN DUUNNN
> 
> Also! I've updated a picture to CH1 so check that out.


	12. The Ideals of an Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol goes on the hunt for an old friend

Sol secured the scarf she had wrapped around her face as protection for prying eyes. Silently she cursed the dusty planet she had arrived on seeking her old acquaintance, already forgotten the name of it. It was a planet of dusty planes, strangely shaped trees and scarce water supply. Why Vic choose this place she truly didn’t know. She supposed it was a good place to disappear. 

Apparently not good enough. 

Weary eyes watched her as she passed through the market of the small city towards the bar. Bars were always the best way to get the dirt of the city. It was where the locals complained and where the mercenaries and bounty hunters got their jobs. She just had to make sure she wasn’t one of their jobs. 

The air inside the bar was stale. Walking straight into a deathtrap  _ should _ feel more concerning but Sol wasn’t worried. She removed the scarf as she came up to the barkeep, smiling inviting to him and brushing a hand through her short black hair, cut just below her ears. 

The barkeep didn’t smile back but acknowledged her nonetheless.

“Give me a glass of whatever,” Sol ordered, sitting down on a stool, eyes trailing to the other end of the bar where a group of shifty-looking men sat, eyeing her up and down like a whole meal. She shot them a short smile, then turned her eyes to the rest of the bar. Everyone was wily looking. 

She turned back to the barkeep as he put down a glass with purple liquid in it, the smell stinging in the nose. “I’m looking for someone.”

“We’re all looking for someone,” he said shortly. 

“Well, I’m looking for a resistance recruiter that I’m told is living around these parts,” Sol continued, disregarding the final words of the barkeeper. The man leaned against the bar with a sigh, shaking his head dismissively. 

“Don’t know no rebels.” At the mention of the resistance, the bar seemed to wind up, tension heavy in the air. The group on the other end of the bar leaned just a little closer. 

Sol pulled out a holo com, switching it on to reveal the face of Vic. The barkeep looked her dead in the eye and shrugged. “If I start selling out my patrons I won’t have any left. And I told you I don’t know no rebels if I did what makes you think I’d tell you? ”

Sol smiled sweetly, placing her blaster on the disk as a threatening display. The barkeep didn’t flinch, no he rather began to smile. This wasn’t his first time looking a blaster in the face, nor was it the first time someone had barged into his bar to find a name. Sol knew this. “I know you know something. I’d prefer that you tell me the price of that knowledge so I don't have to start shooting.”

“Do you think you can really come in here and start waving a gun around to get some answers and they’ll just fall into your lap? You, alone. Sweetheart, I’ll have you dead on the floor before you pull the trigger.” 

“Do you really think I’m alone?” Sol played. “Really? I think it’s clear I’m not a simple bounty hunter. I work for someone much, much bigger.”

“Then why are you alone?”

“There wouldn't exactly be enough space in here for all of us, besides, I’m much friendlier and far prettier.”

“Who are you working for?”

“Take a wild guess,” Sol answered, turning the holo com around for his eyes to note the First Order logo on its back. Tension grew in his shoulders, jaw set and lips thin. “I’ve got this whole place surrounded. One single quirk of the wrong brow and this bar goes up in flames.” Sol pulled out a few credits, placing them on the sticky bar and tapping her fingers against them. “Tell me where to find him.”

The barkeep licked his lips, blunt nails digging into the abused wood, unsure whether to call her bluff or not. Sol herself felt the tension, adrenaline coursing through her veins that gave her a rush that made her heart pump harder. If he called her bluff then there wasn’t much she could do, maybe throw more credits his way to loosen his grip but otherwise, she’d be fucked. 

“Information like that is worth more,” he bargained. A smirk crept on Sol’s lips. She threw a few additional credits on the bar. The barkeep pushed himself off the bar and swept the credits from the top, stuffing them in his pockets. “I’m told he lives in the blocks on the outskirts, near the eastern dunes.” 

Sol took the information with a smile, jumped down from the stool and strutted out with her hands in her pockets, hand still wrapped around the blaster. The tickle of eyes followed her. She’d been lucky. No, not luck, luck was for those without skills. She had been skilful. 

The two suns baked down on the wasteland, sand and dust blowing in the too hot wind. Not even the breeze was cold. It took a few more gears to grease with money before she found the apartment. When she did, she also found him. 

Vic was on his way out as she came down the hall. Quickly, she pulled out the blaster pressed it against his back as she held onto him by the collar. “You’ve been a pain to find.”

“S?” Vic questioned in surprise, hands held up in surrender. Sol pushed him in through the door, closing it behind her with her foot while never easing the blaster away from her target. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Vic stuttered out. 

“Don’t play dumb. You most definitely know why I’m here,” Sol answered. She kicked lightly at the back of his knees, forcing him to them with a thump before finding the shackles she had hidden under her thin jacket. His wrists were locked together in them, the metal pinching his skin. 

“Last I heard you were caught by the Order,” Vic said. Sol shrugged as an answer, beginning to rummage through his stuff. There wasn’t much to the apartment. It was one single room, with a bed, a kitchen and a bathroom. Sand gathered in the corners and crevices. “What is going to happen to me?” 

Sol glanced at him, pulling off the covers on his bed and tearing apart the mattress with her knife, the dried musha beans inside pouring onto the floor, pooling around the same places sand did and around Vic. She frowned. 

They both knew what was going to happen to him. He was going to be tortured for information and he was not going to give it up easily. He believed in the resistance and now he’d also die for it. A slow, painful death. She pitied him, she really did, but rather him than her. 

“They won’t get anything out of me,” Vic stated bravely, and stupidly Sol thought. 

“You might survive if you give them all the information you can,” Sol said, trying to make him see reason. Dying for the resistance wasn’t worth it. Dying for anything wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t imagine it. There was only survival. 

Vic scoffed at the idea. “Don’t you see what the First Order is doing? They’re taking liberty and calling it protection. They’re fueling tyrants and depleting planets of their resources. You of all people should know what they’re doing!” 

Sol immediately felt anger flare in the pit of her stomach. “You don't know shit.”

“You’re standing by as they’re killing millions. You’re just as culpable as the ones doing the killing,” Vic growled, baring his teeth and straining his dry lips to the point of bleeding. 

“I don’t care about ‘the millions’. I don’t know them. They didn’t do shit for me when I needed it,” Sol growled right back. She was a killer, an assassin. Did he really think she was different? Sol was out for herself and herself only. What he thought of her wasn’t her problem.  _ Besides _ , she was married to Kylo Ren. She’d get cut down at the slightest whiff of the rebellion on her. 

Vic looked at her in disgust. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your marriage?”

Sol paused in her tearing out the draws, glaring at the bound rebel with a turn to the corners of her lips. “I suppose you should.” It was the first time she didn’t throw the congratulations to the ground to piss on them. 

“You can still change,” Vic pleaded. “You can still do the right thing.” 

“And what is that? Drop everything and come work for the resistance? Be a spy?”

“You’d be able to make a difference. You’re in a perfect position.” As he spoke, Vic moved forward on his knees, trying for the life of him to make her change her mind, to invoke some sort of feeling. She couldn’t possibly be so cold-hearted. 

“No,” Sol refused, tearing the hollow bottom of the drawer out to reveal communication tools. These were shoved in her pockets. She continued. “I’m in the perfect position to get myself killed. I am not becoming a spy for a cause I don’t believe in. I don’t give a shit about everyone else and neither should you have done. Can the resistance bring the dead back to life? Will they give me my vengeance? No. Fuck the resistance and fuck you for wanting to drag me into it.”

“You’re already in it!” Vic exclaimed in anger, the tips of his ears red. He shook his head in utter disbelief. Anger, disgust and frustration easy to read on his face. He didn’t understand what he was asking of her. “The resistance might not give you the things you want but it’d give you something else, something... _ More _ .”

“The resistance doesn’t give a shit about any of us. Not you, not me. It’s just as much of a machine as the Order.  _ The galaxy doesn’t run on ideals _ .”

“ _ But it could _ . We could make that change. Make sure the generations after us has a better chance that we ever did.” 

Sol shook her head, rolling her eyes at his blind belief that everything would be okay if they slew the beast that was the First Order. The battle with the First Order wouldn’t be the last even if they won. There’d be more. Others trying to take over. There’ll always be others. The only way to be safe was to be the one on the top of the pyramid. 

“Your parents were supporters of the resistance.” Sol’s head snapped to his, fury brewing deep inside of her chest. Vic shook his head in disappointment. Never once did his determination wavers, never did his belief in the resistance strain. He was going to die for it, for them. And he’d think it was all worth it. 

His eyes connected with hers, a storm of emotions drowned in blue. It was the eyes of someone with faith. She didn’t believe him. 

“If I had known you were the princess of Ori I wouldn’t have turned you in.” The thin ice that kept her from her anger opened up beneath her, drowning her in ice-cold fury. In a blink she was at his face, hands buried in his shirt as she pulled him to her, teeth bared in a snarl. “What did you just say?”

Vic didn’t flinch. Not once. He remained still, eyes shining with his own fury. The words weren’t repeated. Sol pushed him from her so roughly he fell over while she tried to contain the strain of betrayal she felt. “Do you have any idea what they did to me?”

“I suspect I will,” he muttered under his breath, pushing himself to a seated position on his knees again, a scrape adorning his cheekbone. 

“Why? Why did you turn me in?”

“To save my own skin. Maybe I was tired of your blind rejection of the resistance.” Vic began, spitting sand from his mouth. “Or perhaps in the hope that you, of all people, would find a way to the position you’re in now where you’d make the perfect spy. Does it matter?”

Vic had a hole through his body the moment he stopped talking. His body landed awkwardly on his shoulder, eyes half-open, mouth parted. The sound and smell of burning flesh filled the ransacked apartment, enough to turn stomachs. Sol hadn’t realised she had pulled the trigger before he was dead and when she did, she ran a hand over her face and cursed. 

She knew then and there that he had played her. Vic would rather die than live with the possibility of betraying the resistance. It would have been admirable was it not so fucking frustrating. She had done him a favour really, and in a way, she was relieved that she didn’t have to bring him in to be tortured, but by the stars was it also sour. 

A part of her knew what he was doing. Knew that he’d say anything to piss her off enough. But it also brought everything he said into question. Was he telling the truth or was it a perfectly tailored lie? 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she cursed at him, taking a hold of his shackles and began dragging him out of the door, with great effort. Couldn’t he have pissed her off when they were already on the ship? For fuck's sake. 

Sol barely made it through the door, the heat of the two suns colliding with her like a force to be reckoned with, that she was stopped in her tracks by being surrounded by a group of men. No, not just any group of men, the men from the bar. Their blasters were pointed directly at her. 

“Where’s that backup you were so adamant about?” One of them asked, spitting a blue splotch to the side. Sol narrowed her eyes at them. They’ve called her bluff. Great. “Did you really think we wouldn’t recognize your pretty face? It has thousands of credits written all over it.” 

“Lucky for us we were just talking about the bounty on your head right before you came in,” another added. Letting go of Vic’s body, Sol straightened her back, eyes running over the five of them. 

“I’m worth a lot more alive,” Sol bargained, holding up her hands in surrender. 

“Then you better not make it difficult.” 

As two of them approached, Sol drew her blaster and shot, burning a hole through one of them while the other ducked for cover. Sol only got a few more shots in before throwing herself behind a stack of boxes that immediately blew into pieces, wood splinters raining down over her as she lay in the sand. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuck! _ The smell of fabric burning and seared skin filled her nose, sweat trickling down her neck, pearling above her lips and at her temples. Four of them left. She forced herself to sit up, throwing her burnt scarf to the side, before waiting, blaster ready in hand. 

The blaster fire ebbed out as they waited for a sign of life. One slowly came up to look behind the crates, his knee getting shot out the moment she saw it. He tumbled to the sand with a cry only silenced with a blast to his face. Three left. A new on slaught of blaster fire rained down over her, more wood exploding. One shot burned through the wood and through her blaster, rendering it useless. 

“Are you done?” One of them called. 

“Yes,” she called back.

“Show me your hands! Slowly.” Sol complied, weakly revealing her hands before moving out of the safety of the mangled boxes. A few more shots and there’d been nothing left to cover her. 

They looked pissed. Who could really blame them, she had, after all, killed two of their friends. Still, Sol wasn’t done until all of them were dead. In one quick move, Sol launched the broken blaster at one man's face, twirling around to throw the knife she had hidden in a seath by her back, the blade tearing into the throat of the other. He fell to the ground, hands gripping at the blood pouring out, breaths coming out in wet gurgles as he drowned in his own blood. Sol didn’t give them a chance to recover before kicking the one closest to her in his inner thigh, the bone breaking at the sheer force. He howled, kneeling down, the gun was torn from his hand and brought back onto his face where its bud collided with his nose. Another bone broken. Sol placed the blaster by his hard and shot. Quick and merciless. 

The last one alive crawled his way through the sand, trying to get to the blaster that he had lost when the one she had thrown hit him square in the face. She shot him in the back, melting the sand underneath him. 

Sol blew a strand of hair out of her face and brushed her hands through it. “This is why you buy Wingham wigs.” She said to no one in particular. 

They had been a ragtag crew. They might have been able to catch smaller fish, but Sol was far too skilled for them. Had she faced someone closer to her level she’d not been able to get away with minor burns and scratches and a wig filled with splinters. 

With a sigh, she walked back through the battlefield, over the dead bodies and broken surroundings to the one body that actually mattered. 

News of the fight travelled fast making the city seem all the more ghost-like. Windows and blinds were closed. There was no one on the streets. Faces peeked out only to quickly disappear as she dragged the body after her. Sol managed to hijack a speeder to transport her the last of the way to the ship. It had been an absolute pain to lift Vic up onto it and fastening him before he fell down, but after a few tries and multiple colourful curses, she did it. 

Upon returning to the ship she was stopped in her tracks the moment she had jumped down, pausing at the black-clad figure standing by the ramp to the ship. Eon stood out against the sandy dunes and hot landscape with his heavy coat and cape. How could he even breathe?

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you really think Commander Ren would let you go without a shadow?” Eon answered blankly. Sol frowned at him, brushing a hand through her hair and finding it filled with splinters. Great. 

“You were here the whole time?!” Sol exclaimed in a huff. “Why didn’t you help me when I was surrounded by brutes?”

“I trusted you had it under control,” he answered simply, giving away nothing. ‘Under control’ her ass. He was still mad about the drugging. Eon turned around and walked into the ship with no further words. 

“Could you at least help me with the body?” Sol called after him and let out a sigh. Getting the body off the speeder was far easier than getting it into the ship. The angle of the ramp and gravity made it difficult but she managed it. Vic was covered in sand by then. Sol let go of the body, his arms thumping back onto the floor as she sat down opposite of Eon. 

The motor starts up, grumbling to life and vibrating the whole ship. Hydraulics hissed and the air pressure popped in her ears as she left the ground. Sol leaned back when the ride became smoother, savouring the cool air on her hot and sweaty skin. 

“General Hux is not going to be happy,” Eon commented. 

“It was him or me,” Sol lied. 

“Did you kill him because he was your friend or because you had no choice?” Eon was harder to get a read on than anyone else. Even Ren. It was like he withheld everything that didn’t make him the perfect soldier, every personality trait that wasn’t cold or weaponised. 

Sol’s glare hardened jaw clenching. “I had no choice.” 

A blatant lie. She had every choice she just chose this one for whatever reason, whether it was for revenge or as mercy. Vic looked wrong without breath in his lungs, Sol thought. It wasn’t the first body she had seen, but she always thought they looked wrong and Vic even more so. 

Sol looked back up at Eon. “I liked you better in the beginning. You were friendlier.” 

Eon just looked at her, cold and hard. Unreadable. It was true what she said. He had been friendlier in the beginning, when she was still finding legs to stand on when she fought everyone she came into contact with. He had warned her. Kept her safe in his own way. Even if he had been tasked to protect and watch her he didn’t have to be kind. 

It was like he had been reminded of how to act. To show no kindness or mercy. Both of which Sol understood but nonetheless missed. It had been her own doing. He had seen first hand how conniving she could be. 

The rest of the flight went by in silence.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, last weekend was my 25th birthday and I didn't have time to write. 
> 
> I think you should all look forward to the next chapter because it will be a bomb that sets in motion the 2nd act. 
> 
> I've become curious as to what you think of the characters? If there are characters you wanna see/know more of or are curious about? If there's things you'd like to see happen? What you think of the characters and where the story is going? Any predictions? Answering one of these questions or posing your own question to me always fuels my writing. 
> 
> Right now I'm working on 15 and revising 13.


	13. Medical Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol returns from her mission to a less than pleased Hux while Kylo also returns from a botched mission in severe medical need.

The ship shuttered as it landed in the hangar, vibrations tickling through her feet to the top of her head. Then nothing. The ramp opened up with a hiss, fluorescent light pouring into the dark space with the scent of oil and other fluids followed closely by the sound of people working and marching. 

Much to Sol’s dismay, Hux stood waiting on her with a few of his subordinates around him as he looked over a datapad with the expression of indifference upon his face. 

Sol dragged Vic after her, helped by gravity and the angel of the ramp, and almost got her feet swept out from under her by him. With a sigh, she dragged him towards Hux and the impending conversation that was already beginning to give her a headache. Eon wisp past her without a single glace in her direction, his task now done and over with. 

Hux crooked a brow at her, mindlessly handing over the datapad to one of his officers while his eyes remained on her, cool and unsympathetic. “I would have prefered him alive.”

“Well, we can’t always get what we want,” Sol smiled a quick smile in greeting, it just as quickly gone from her face as it had appeared, sarcastic and unwelcoming. Vic thumps back to the floor when she released him from her grip. “And you said ‘dead or alive’.” 

“Had he been alive we would have gotten something substantial out of him.”

“Dead rebels are the best rebels, right?” Sol humoured, though there was no humour in her voice. 

“What good is he to me dead? The information we could have gotten out of him might have lead to more dead rebels,” Hux emphasised with belittlement in his voice. “It makes me wonder whether your relationship with the rebel clouded your judgment. You may have pitied him.”

Sol could feel anger rise in her chest. Whether Hux and Eon were right about showing mercy or she did it out of anger she didn’t know herself. But what she was sure of was that she did the job, that she always completed the job and belittling her like this as if she was incapable of doing what needed to be done was beyond infuriating. 

“I’m disappointed,” Hux added. 

‘I really don’t give a shit’ Sol wanted to say but instead bit it in her. “I did the job. I found the rebel and took care of him. It wasn’t all for nothing.” Sol fished up the transmitter and other holocoms she had found in Vic’s apartment, almost shoving them in Hux’s smug pasty face. The general glanced to his officer that hurried forth and took the bundle of things out of Sol’s hands. “I know how to do my job, General. Whether you believe it or not, I really don’t care. If you want another result be explicit next time.” 

“I’ll pay you half,” Hux began but was quickly cut off by Sol taking a step closer. “You will pay me the full amount. Nothing less. That is what we agreed upon.”

With a sneer Sol walked off, the irritation boiling in her blood. That smug ginger bastard. One of these days she’d wind up knocking him to the ground, even if there would be hell to pay afterwards. Sol ripped off the wig that was still filled with splinters and sand, along with the cap underneath it that kept her hair in place, running a hand through the greasy tassels. She sorely needed a shower to wash this whole thing off of her. 

Sol was out of the shower, hair hanging in waving tassels around her head, body wrapped in a green silk robe with golden embroidery on it, smearing out the lotion on her hands when he had come in, a sight of black fury and torn and burnt clothes, blood seeping into the fabrics with its metallic smell mixed with fire and burning flesh. Behind him were two medical droids and two stormtroopers, both of which looked terrified and with reason. 

“Please, sir, let us see to yoooouuuu-,” one droid begged when it was thrown through the room, out through the door and colliding with the wall. The two stormtroopers remained in the hall, peering in unsure and afraid. They wanted nothing more than turn on their heels and run away, Sol could see it as clear as day. The other medical droid vibrated with fear but remained. 

Sol could see Kylo open and close his fists, breath heavy in his chest while he tried to control himself. The back of his coat was torn, sliced through with a sharp blade, revealing a deep long line of red, the fabric around the wound gleaming with blood. 

Sol walked to the medical droid, putting a soft and sympathetic smile on her lips. “Here, let me take care of my husband.” She took the medical supplies carried by the droid from it, then looked at the others. “You’re dismissed.” 

At first hesitant, then all too quickly they were gone, the door closing her in with fury made human. The hiss of his helmet was slowly becoming familiar. 

“I don’t need you to ‘take care of’ me,” Kylo hissed, holding his side as blood trickled down his leg, pooling by his boots. Sol rolled her eyes, coming up beside him to get a look at his front. A clear wound to the lower abdomen, he limped just a bit but enough to suggest a wound to his leg, along with the one on his back. 

“I thought you wanted an attentive wife,” Sol teased, earning a sharp glare as he moved towards the bathroom. Sol grabbed him by his arm, halting him in his retreat. “Take off your gear and sit on the bed.” This was an order, not a suggestion. His dark eyes looked her over tentatively before complying. 

With a sharp intake of air Kylo removed his belt, lying it on the nightstand, then removed his coat, the thick shirt beneath and then his waistband, standing only in the thin tunic she has seen him in once before, this sticking to his skin with blood, torn and burned along the edges. With one last look at Sol, he removed it. 

Had she been unfamiliar with the male physique she’d have blushed at the sight of his pale skin dotted with freckles and smeared with blood. She came up to him, eyes wandering over the wounds with a slight frown on her brows. Lightly, she pushed him to sit on the bed. A grimace wandered over his face at the motion but nothing else was said. 

From what she could see the wound on his back was the worst. Still, the wound at his side leaked blood and clear liquids, white blood cells. She took a clean rag and placed it against the wound, glancing up at Kylo. “Hold this while I take care of your back.”

She moved behind him tentatively kneeling on the bed, the medical supplies put to her side for easy reach. At first, she cleaned the wound with water, dapping away at it. Even if he didn’t want to reveal the pain he was in, his body still spoke of it. In the way his muscles seemed to ripple, tense and wirey, the way he swallowed or his hands balling into fists. 

The wound had been cleaned. She could stitch it but it’d take longer to heal instead she choose to take the laser pen that fuses the wound together, it’d hurt more but heal faster once a bacta-pad was placed upon it.

“You must be enjoying my pain,” Kylo grumbled. 

Sol couldn’t help but smile a little, happy that he couldn’t see her face. “Not as much as I properly should be. A little.”

The smell of burning flesh grew, the laser fusing the wound together in an angry red line, bubbling and searing. Kylo said nothing, he just bit back the pain and let her work. Sol wasn’t sure she’d handle it as well as him. If it had been her in his place some less than graceful words would have fallen from her mouth, then more violent words and possibly a few thrown items. 

“What happened?” She asked braving the storm her question could create. 

“Things didn’t go as planned,” he answered. “The intel had been mostly correct but somewhere someone fucked up and the ambush turned into a larger scale fight.” 

Sol blew on the fused flesh like a mother does a child as if it alleviated the pain. Kylo felt the wind tickle over his skin, cool and hot at the same time and it made him clench his fist and press harder against the wound in his side, jaw clenched and eyes closed as he thought of his mother. It was such a mindless little thing, natural and without a hidden intent. 

Sol patched the bacta-pad on him after cleaning him up again, moving to kneel down in front of him to take a look on his side. His eyes found her face, studying her as she worked. 

“You got the rebel.” This was a statement not a question and still, Sol answered with a yes. 

“The price on my head apparently makes even the lowliest of bounty hunters wanna take a shot at me.” She moved his hand away from where it was, peeling off the now dirty rag, his skin sticking to it. It was a burn. Trying to bring his attention to something else Sol flashed him a smug grin. “I’m flattered really.” 

“Of course you are,” Kylo grumbled. His abs tensed when she began cleaning off his wound. “Makes my job of keeping you alive all the harder.”

“Hey! I want to keep myself alive too. It’s kind of my whole goal,” Sol scorned with an upward turn of her lips. This truce was much easier to uphold than what she initially thought. 

“Are you ever genuine?” He asked half scoffing, half entertained. 

“On rare occasions,” Sol answered. “Are you?” 

Kylo watched her as she worked. At first, he had been wary, uncertain whether to allow her to touch him, whether she’d be a smug little shit he knew she could be or what exactly her ulterior motive was. He had figured that last part out and that is what made it all so bitter. She thought that they could make friends, that soft touches and nimble fingers would gain her power over him. That if she could just show him this side of her that he’d melt into a puddle at her feet. It was clearly a tactic she had used before. 

What made it so bitter was that he felt himself long for her. Long for the touches, long for the easiness which was promised to him in her mere presence. This girl was all ambition, all vengeance and desire, and somehow, there was more to her. If she had been just that, he could remain hating her on such a fundamental level. But he felt the hate that burned within him falter. And that is what made her all the more dangerous. Her movies were clear and muddled all at the same time. 

“Safety,” Kylo said. Sol glanced up at him, a strand of hair continuously falling into her face and being blown to the side. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at but the way he was looking at her felt as if he looked into her soul. 

“There’s only one way I will ever be safe.”

Sol shifted, eyes returning to her task at hand as she placed a bacta-pad over the wound, the blue liquid within activating as soon as it was sealed around him. Then she looked down at his leg, tugging at the torn trousers that stuck to his leg. She tore the hole bigger opening it up so much it fell to each side of his thigh, revealing the jagged cut covered in new and old blood and the pale, healthy skin around. 

With growing irritation at her hair, she tried to brush it aside using her arm instead of her blood-covered hands and froze in place when a long, scabbed finger brushed the hair out of her face and behind her ear. She looked up in surprise, eyes locking with Kylo’s. What was he doing? Was he trying to use the same tactics on her as she did him? 

And why did she feel bumps grow all over her body?

She ripped her eyes from his, focusing on fixing the last of his wounds. This felt like a game of collision, where neither want to yield as they race towards one another ending only if one flinches or if they collide. Sol was not going to yield, he’d have to. 

The jagged wound was cleaned and though it had bled a lot, it wasn’t deep enough to fuse together so she patched another pad on it and stopped at that. “There, finished.” 

Sol gathered the supplies and used rags, putting them away on the table for a droid to clean after she had cleaned off her hands. She looked at herself in the mirror, leaning against the counter as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

This tactic of skin to skin contact and small glances, trying to get under his skin, make him want her was affecting her far more than she thought it would. She wasn’t just getting under his skin but he was getting under hers. Catching any sort of feelings was dangerous. It’d make it all the harder to cut her losses if it ever came to it. He’s a tool to be used, nothing more. He was a monster, a man-made of fire and hatred. But wasn’t she the same? 

Sol had to be careful, otherwise, she might be swallowed up whole before she got to him. 

There was the faintest of noise. Something distant and strangled. Sol frowned in her sleep, stirring awake ever so slowly by the noise. Cold ebbed in from the window she was lying by, stars gleaming in the distance while the icy planet they were by shone the brightest with its snow-covered landscape. There was a noise again, this time louder and more gruntal. Sol blinked at it with furrowed brows and sat up from her pool of blankets and robe. 

“I can’t-,” the voice said, pained and muttered. Sol closed her robe tightly into her body, slowly rising from her sleeping place, her cocoon of warmth to step onto the cold floor and towards the man on the bed. 

She could see him, pale skin wet with sweat that caught the light from the outside. His hands balled into fists clutching the blanket as if to keep him from sinking into the mattress. His dark hair stuck to his face, damp and curling the slightest. One quick breath was drawn into his lungs, held there for much too long before ruggedly being let out as if he was attempting to hold his breath and survive what nightmares plagued him. 

“You’re weak,” his voice hissed. Sol hesitated by what might be her side of the bed were they sharing it. Kylo’s brows furrowed down, eyes running back and forth behind his lids and his lips quivering, the corners turned down into a sad expression. “I’m not- I’m not weak. I d-don’t want to be.”

Was he talking with himself? Sol bit her lip then gently began to sit down at the foot of the bed, folding her legs beneath her. There was an internal battle inside of him. He was haunted in a way few knew and fewer still understood. She knew of nightmares, she had them too. Trauma replaying over and over again inside your dreams, with no way of escape. She wondered if it were a trauma that haunted him too or the actions he’s made. Was he haunted by the ghosts of those he killed? Or haunted by those he couldn’t save. Her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

It was strange what night could do. The silence between days, the feeling of no time at all. If it had been at any other point she would have stayed away, afraid to approach in fear of the consequences. Perhaps it was that sleep simply clung to her and made her self preservation be left behind. 

“No.” This was said airily, broken. “I’m trying...” Sol lifted herself up a little to see his face as he turned it to the side away from her. Darkness swallowed his features but it didn’t take away from the desperate pain. His hands pulled at the sheet as if something dug into his soul. A pained rasping gasp escaped him. 

Someone would have found satisfaction in his pain and maybe at any other time of day she would have too, but for now, it reminded her that he was human after all. And whatever it was that haunted him, it did haunt him. 

The air seemed to shift around him, beginning to ripple with familiar dark anger. His breath became more laboured drawn in through gritted teeth. Sol could feel the rippling of energy emanate from him. Fear and pain turned to anger as it so often did. She recognized it. He was so quick to anger, desperate for control that it often erupted from him. But in this haze of sleep, this silence of her soul and almost childish curiosity she didn’t connect the dots between fear, pain and anger. It fell to the back of her mind. 

“I will…” Was the last words that left his quivering lips. In an instant she felt his force tear through the room, knocking her down from the bed and onto her back. Immediately, she felt a tight grip around her throat, pressing in and restricting her from much-needed breath. She felt her head pulse with blood, the pressure rising for every passing moment. Small strangled breaths left her while she fought the invisible hands, legs and arms flailing. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Kylo had sat straight up in bed, eyes unfocused and expression puzzled and far away. He was just sitting there. Sol gripped the sheets and pulled herself to sit on the floor, both arms now gripping the fabric while she also desperately tried to reach him. Black dots began to dance in her vision. 

“Ky-lo,” she called. Kylo blinked and then turned his dark eyes towards her. Upon realising what he was doing he let go, pulled the force back and released her from his death grip. He seemed disoriented.

Sol gulped in breaths of air, laying her cheek against the fabric while her arms remained stretched out over the bed keeping her from tumbling back to the floor. They sat like that for a while, both calming their respiratory system while sizing each other up. 

Kylo was the first to move, turning to plant his feet on the floor but remaining seated on the bed. Sol watched the pale skin of his back and the thin scars that remained as evidence of his life. 

“I have them too,” Sol spoke quietly breaking the silence. Her voice was weak from being strangled but it didn’t hurt much. If anything she had had worse. Kylo turned his face half a quarter towards her signalling that he had heard her. She was unsure if she should continue. When he made no move to be against it she decided to continue, treading carefully on unfamiliar ground. “My mom once told me it’s the mind's way to heal itself. To try and find logic in trauma or to find a solution. To try and correct whatever it is.” 

“Does it happen a lot?” She dared question. It wasn’t usual that they slept in the same room often she found herself alone while he chose to be somewhere else. 

He answered almost softly. “It was worse when I was younger.” 

They continued their silence. What little emotion she could detect in him was a wild fluctuation. There was no specific emotion, just a calm she recognized as one she herself felt. A calm and growing conflict. Was he doing the same to her? Trying to identifying hostility that was a usual underlying emotion between them?

“You said you had them too.”

“Yes.”

“What do you do when you get them?” His question spun around in her head. She hadn’t expected him to say anything more.

“I haven’t figured it out yet.” She told. “I will let you know when I do.” 

The comfortable silence between them was strange. Friendly, with no fire underneath. The answer seemed to change something. Kylo got up and walked into the wardrobe leaving Sol sitting in the same position. With him out of the room, she noticed how cold it was on the floor. Bumps grew on her legs and arms, a sudden chill reaching through the haze. She got up with a huff, moving her body to rid herself of the stiffness that had come with the chill. She redid her robe, closing it around her frame again and folding her arms around herself. 

The storm on the planet had subsided, everything a fine white, the silence of spaces replied with the planets own silence. It was almost serene. Time had seemed to stop and the galaxy had shrunk to the walls of the room and the single window looking out into another world entirely. The heavy footsteps brought it all to a stop, the world expanding once more to the galaxy. Kylo had returned fully dressed with his helmet on, shielding any and all emotion behind it. 

Sol turned towards him but made no motion to do anything else. Kylo continued towards the door, stopping only right in front of it while it whooshed open. She didn’t expect him to say anything and when he did she jumped a little. “Take the bed.” 

Woosh and he was gone leaving her staring after him shocked and puzzled. Something had shifted. Tomorrow she might agonize and plot over it but for now, the lure of the warm comfortable bed and sleep was too much. She sank into the covers and let out a satisfying breath at the warmth. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're closing in on the second arc. Within a few chapters, we'll get to see a new side to both of them. Next chapter we will see Kylo and Hux acting like children and Kylo seeking Snokes guidance. 
> 
> What would you like to see in future chapters? I've had a plan of intertwining this story with the canon storylines (with a few tweaks of course) but I'm unsure whether to continue as planned or make it a complete AU. If I do go the AU way, then I'm not entirely sure I will do the great characters justice and it will pull the focus away from Kylo/Sol. I'm not sure my writing capabilities are good enough for that. But there are some major things I didn't like from canon and there's a lot of plotholes in the newer movies, though Im not sure I'm able to rectify them. I have to make the decision soon since we're nearing the 3 act where we will begin tying up with the movies. 
> 
> Are there any characters you look forward to meeting? Like Sol meeting Rey or Poe or Finn? How do you think the characters will react to one another?


	14. Guidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Hux does not agree on who is to blame on the botched mission. Kylo asks Snoke for guidance.

Kylo was walking briskly down the halls, his heavy steps alerting oncoming traffic of who’d soon appear, giving them barely enough time to turn around. At times he actually witnessed the turning of stormtroopers too slow to do it out of sight. But most of the time they just speed up, trying not to offend or be in his way. He glowered at them. 

He felt restless, a feeling he couldn’t seem to get rid of. It crawled beneath his skin, finger twitching for something to do, for a fight to win. He was still stiff and sore from his wounds but the feeling of restlessness made it impossible to sit still and recuperate. 

Immediately his mood plummeted upon the mere sight of General Hux, his slick red hair combed back, the uniform pressed and pristine, a man who doesn't have calluses on his fingers. Kylo’s lip twisted under the cover of his helmet. 

“It seems you don’t have a limp anymore,” Hux greeted, his voice mocking. 

“I wouldn’t have gotten ‘a limp’ if your men didn’t fuck up the mission,” Kylo growled through the visor. 

“My men were under your command,” Hux noted with a sneer. 

“Your men were untrained and lacking in every aspect. If  _ my knights _ hadn’t been there we would have had more casualties.”

“You would have lost.”

“ _ Your _ men would have lost,  _ I _ wouldn’t.” Kylo clenched his jaw, rage burning in his chest. If only the General was disposable, but he begrudgingly had to admit that he had his uses -however small and insignificant they were. “Train your men properly, General.” 

“My men-,”

“You send Sol on a mission alone,” Kylo cut in angrily unable to hold back what bothered him the most. It was irresponsible and a major lack of respect. Sending her out there alone with the bounty on her head was inviting trouble, it was a clear show of disrespect. 

“I believed she was capable enough to handle it on her own,” Hux answered with a slight shrug, the indifference towards the threat against Sol clear -if not a little amusing to him. It only made Kylo angrier. 

“With the bounty on her head, every lowlife who previously wouldn't dare cross us would take a shot at her. Your blatant disregard for the threat is reckless.” 

“She got back alive didn’t she?” Hux asked smugly. “And if I recall correctly, she wasn’t alone. Didn’t she have one of your knights tailing her? You’d think the way you use them as a shield that they would be able to protect one little girl.” 

It was hard to control the anger now. It seemed to vibrate under his skin, the burning feeling of it in his chest now a full blaze. It wouldn’t take much. Just a flick of a finger and Hux would be sent flying through the hall, pale face turning red, eyes bulging and slowly becoming bloodshot, his perfectly slick hair made unkempt, hands clawing at his neck trying to release the invisible force restraining the breath from filling his lungs. He had imagined it more times than he cared to count. And now, it was hard to control the urge. 

“Eon was there to shadow her, not intervene. The task of protecting her against lowlife bounty hunters is far beneath his skill. We could have used him on my mission but instead he had to play babysitter because you’re afraid your men aren't up to the task of protecting her,” Kylo spat at Hux. 

“But why would you want my men to take up such an important task when they’re ‘untrained and lacking in every aspect’,” Hux sneered back with a smug twist on his lips. By the stars Kylo wanted to gut him. 

“You’re right. Your men have proved themselves lacking before. She was, after all, able to slip out right under their noses,” Kylo taunted. Hux pressed his lips into a thin line. Kylo stopped up and turned to Hux, almost towering over him, darkened by the energy that seemed to leak from his very being. “Next time you send my wife on a mission, you will provide proper protection for her.” 

“Careful now, Ren, you’d almost make me think you care for the girl,” Hux mocked, leaning towards Kylo the same way he did, the curl of his lip a taunt, smug and so very enraging.

With a vicious outlet of air, almost a growl, Kylo turned on his heels and entered the massive holo room. Darkness loomed on every side, shadows grown big in the minimal light. And there, in the middle of the room on the platform, were the Supreme Leader. There was a slight flicker from the projectors as he moved, dark gleaming eyes latching onto Kylo the second he entered, the same way Snoke's energy wrapped around him, tendrils of dark forces pressing in on him. Kylo imagined that it felt the same way as being thrown out into space with no protection. 

His feet lead him to the platform, kneeling down in greeting, with his head bowed in respect. Hux was less formal but still showed his respect by bowing over like a bent straw. 

They reported their mission, slinging thinly-veiled blame at one another like kids throwing mud. The supreme leader watched on, eyes beady and always gleaming with hidden truths.

“The General seems to forget he’s the one responsible for the misinformation,” Kylo spat at the redhead with vicious intent. 

“And it's the Commander that’s responsible for adapting to the location and what possibilities that follow. The information was flawed but regardless, we shouldn't have suffered the casualties that we did.”

“We adapted to the situation, it was your troopers that acted too rash and thereby drew the attention of our enemies. If they hadn’t done that we wouldn’t have suffered as we did.”

“‘ _ Soldiers are only as good as their leader _ .’ I believe it was your wife that said that. In this circumstance, you were their leader,” Hux bit back, voice changing to mimicking Sol before switching back to his own. He was mocking him. The leather of Kylo’s gloves let out the smallest groan at the sheer force of how hard he clenched his fists. 

“Perhaps you should speak with her, she may be able to give you some pointers,” Hux continued. “Though I doubt she’ll be able to help you much, you already have a hard enough time controlling her.”

“Sol made a mockery of your stormtroopers when she managed to fool a whole squad. It only serves to show how untrained your troopers are.”

“Enough!” Snoke commanded, his voice enough to stop the two combatants in their tracks. They froze like statues, head ducking low and eyes even lower, backs straight as an iron rod. It only served to show how much fear and respect they both had for their leader. Fear, because they knew he could end them right there, and respect because he was their Supreme Leader. 

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke voiced. Kylo looked up, squaring his shoulders and prepared for the worst. “You are a commander of the First Order and the Master of the Knights of Ren. You have thousands of soldiers at your command. Learn to control them. You are my apprentice and I cannot have you look weak or unable to command an army.” Kylo swallowed, rage seeming to burn through his chest all the way out to his fingers. Beside him, Hux had a little smirk, the glee of Kylo’s reprimand all that he needed. 

“General.” Snoke’s address made the redhead look up, ghostly face even paler than usual. “You are responsible for the gathering of information and preparing our troops, perhaps this task is too important for you. To have a girl make a fool of the First Order…” Snoke let out a heavy sigh, gnarled fingers drumming against the armrest of this throne. He shook his head. 

“You are dismissed, General,” the Supreme Leader concluded, waving the General off before turning his eyes to his apprentice. 

Now alone in the room, Kylo could feel the heaviness of his Masters gaze to the fullest, weighing down on him while shadows seemed to latch onto his mind, his soul. 

“Your mind is troubled, young apprentice.”

“I-,” Kylo hesitated, brows furrowing behind his mask. He folded his hands behind his back and shifted. “It is nothing.”

“It is not nothing. Do not lie to me. It is your wife,” Snoke predicted. Now that Sol had been named as the culprit to his troubles it seemed as if the dam that had been holding it all in broke. All his anger and frustration washed out and over him unable to hold it back any longer. 

“I don’t understand how she can complete me when I-we can’t trust her. She’s conniving, manipulative and self serving. Nothing she does is without forethought, everything is to manipulate,” Kylo told, the frustration he felt almost unable to be contained within his body. The restlessness made him pace back and forth while he spoke. “We can’t trust her to be loyal to the Order, to me. If there’s a chance for betrayal she’d take it.” Kylo stopped in his tracks and kneeled down in front of Snoke, head bowed in respect. “I need your guidance, Master.”

Nothing in Snoke's mangled face revealed anything, it never did unless it was anger or disappointment and then it’d quickly be followed by excruciating pain. It had always been like that. Snoke regarded his apprentice for a moment. “What does she desire the most?”

“Master?” 

“Think, my apprentice.” 

Kylo thought back on her dream. He remembered how he suddenly had found himself in her memories. She had looked so young, cheeks chubbier with child-fat, eyes much less hostile and calculating. He had quickly realised that she wasn’t aware he was there. He had observed her quietly, the way she had flung herself onto her brother's bed leisurely. Listened to her thoughts about the Jedi and Sith with the faintest of smiles upon his lips. He had followed her through her dream when her mother bejewelled her and felt the saddened pain of their shared words. And then they met. 

Kylo already knew they'd met before. He remembered her, though she had changed much in her appearance and mannerism. That day was clear to him, as clear as the dream had been. His younger version was so surprised by her appearance that he just stared at her dumbfounded. And then they shared a few words. Then he had been weary and now even more so. Still, he was curious to understand her. It was a strange mix of contempt and intrigue that always left him bitter and yet returning for more. Even then there had been something odd between them. A drawing sensation. Perhaps, it was the force connecting future and past. Or perhaps it was all in his mind. 

Family was something she wanted and couldn’t have. Not in the way she wanted. Revenge, however, was something reachable. Revenge was something he understood -a common factor. Sol wanted revenge and she wanted safety. 

Another memory surfaced, Sol on her knees in front of him, finger lithe and quick to patch up his wounds, a silvery strand of hair constantly falling in her eyes, blown away by her red lips. Her touch was strangely soft, addicting. Then he wanted her to touch him and he wanted to touch her.  _ Weakness… _ His mind had screamed -and still he was unable not to desire it. 

He wanted to trust her, he realised. He wanted her by his side. “She’s making me weak.”

“Is she?” Snoke questioned. “You want her.” 

“I-,” Kylo swallowed. “I want to trust her.” 

“Then give her a taste of something she wants. Show her what you can be, what you can do and she will be loyal to you,” Snoke advised. 

Kylo knew then what to do. Give her something she wants, just a taste of it, and she will be by his side knowing she’d get what she wanted the most in the galaxy. “I know now what to do.” 

“Then go, young apprentice.” Snoke leaned back on his throne, the hologram flickering moments before it shut off, enveloping Kylo in darkness, alone. He rose to his feet and stood there silent, thinking. Sol had been a mystery, an enigma that seemed unsolvable, and yet the answers were to be found in her past, in her actions, in the flicker of emotions always emanating from her. 

She wanted safety. Revenge was just a byproduct of that, something far more tangible and easier to achieve. To her, the only way to be safe was to be in power, to make sure no one would dare move against her. Removing names off her list would help with that. Giving her Vox now would be a mistake but giving her another name…

Kylo wanted her to trust him, to be his partner. Whether it was because of control or something else he didn’t know. All he knew was with her by his side, he might actually stand more secure. And it was what the Supreme Leader wanted. 

Despite the many revelations he had had, there was still a lot he refused to acknowledge, the stirring within him written off as a physical need more than emotional. Trust would be a beginning. A change. Whether they were both capable of it, were an entirely different matter. Kylo was only as honest to himself as he wanted to be. 

Kylo left the dark room meeting Eon by the door. They both walked down the halls in silence, only broken when Kylo spoke, voice firm and urgent. “I have a mission for you.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter and one that leads up to the next. In the next chapter, everything will change. The chapter might be up tomorrow or the day after depending on how much I get written over the next few days. 
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated, especially those with theories, hopes and thoughts on the story/characters.


	15. Blood Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gives Sol something she wants and she returns the favor
> 
> This chapter is rated M. You can skip the last part, but you will also skip small details that may come up later on. Regardless of that, you don't need to read the last part.

Two days went by and Sol began to wonder if Ren was avoiding her. Not that she minded much, she’d taken the time to collect herself and ponder over the ground they now stood on. Eon had been gone too, another thing she didn’t mind since it made it much easier to approach stormtroopers and officers without a knight of Ren looking over her shoulders. 

But she also knew the silence was only temporary. It came to an end on the third day. Ren had sent her a little gift, one she now wore. This dress was one much different than the other far more extravagant dresses she usually wore. This one was made of heavy black fabric, with tiny crimson embroidery that was almost invisible to the eye. It unfolded from her waist down, close to but not quite like a ballgown. It covered her all the way up to her collarbone, arms also clad in the thick fabrics. She matched the look with combed back slick hair and a couple of rubies gleaming at her ears. 

It was an attempt to match Ren. To inspire fear and respect. Sol wasn’t sure what he was up to, but she was never one to refuse such a gift. Dresses you can never have enough of. And she would be lying if she wasn’t just a tiny bit flattered, though still suspicious. 

Eon entered the room, an air of urgency following each of his steps. Something seemed off, not in a negative way but certainly strange. His shoulders were squared, head high and back straight. Sol turned to look at her reflection then back at him. 

“Master Ren asks for your presence,” Eon spoke. 

Sol pursed her red lips, eyeing the knight and smoothing down the bodice of her gown. “How do I look?”

Eon shifted, his shoulders tensed and she could almost tell that his lips were pushed into a thin line, brows furrowing. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to react to the question when his words were of no further use. They weren't friends, the time where they had a more open-air about them had long passed. Sol was his superior. Still, something had to be said. “You look… formidable.” 

Sol quirked an amused brow at him, an upward turn to her lips. “I was looking for ‘impressive’, ‘stunning’ or even ‘bewildering’ but I will take formidable.” 

When Eon didn’t answer she flashed him a smile and wondered what, exactly, was hidden beneath his mask. Someone gruff-looking, who was a soldier first, one that was so set in the order of rank that she’d never get under his skin, or perhaps he was intimidated by her and how familiar she tried to be. Regardless, Eon was a mystery she was unlikely to get any answers to in the immediate future. Kylo was far more important to get close to.

She followed him out into the hall, walking briskly down the now familiar corridors of the ship, this time standing out in another way entirely. This time her appearance commanded the same respect Kylo did. Eyes were averted from her, heads held low. It made her feel strangely powerful in a different way. Before she stood out, mocking the order of rank, mocking her superiors by doing what she could in her spiteful refusal to conform. General Hux would never be able to wrestle her colourful dresses from her, no matter what, but Kylo might coax them from her every once in a while. She did, after all, need him for survival. 

Eon led her to hangar two, where she faltered in her quick steps as she took in the area. The usually bustling hangar was desolate. All First Order ships were grounded and tugged away. There were not a single white stormtrooper on the deck, not a single mechanic or pilot. It was eerie. The quietness sends a shiver down Sol's spine, a spike of uncertainty running through her. 

The only ship on the floor was one that was not First Order issue. It was huge and bulking, with panels in different colours, rusty and clearly salvaged. It seemed they had had some trouble with enemies by the looks of blaster and laser burns that had melted through the metal. By the ramp leading into the ship stood two Knights of Ren, the one with the mace and the one with no visible weapons but an array of gadgets on the belts crisscrossing over his chest. 

“What exactly does he need me for?” Sol asked Eon while they approached, feeling the have gazes of the Knights on her. The way the always looked at her felt heavy, constricting and always,  _ always _ judging. It made her skin crawl. She wouldn’t trust them as far as she could throw. Eon, perhaps, but not the others. 

Eon didn’t answer. 

Kylo came down the ramp to meet her, hands gripping the side of his helmet as he removed it. He wouldn’t remove it unless he was certain no one would see his face, no one he couldn’t trust. Dark hair fell around his long, pale face, curly and silky all at the same time. His eyes held a certain kind of intensity, expectant. It only made Sol more apprehensive. 

“If you summoned me here to view a new First Order ship I’d have to tell you that you could have gotten a much better deal on Corellia, this is a piece of space junk,” Sol told in greeting. It made Kylo’s mouth twist upward. Eon took up guard duty by the mouth of the ship, falling into place by his brother's side. 

“You look…” Kylo began.

“Formidable?” Sol suggested, eyes flashing towards Eon. 

“Commanding,” he finished. Sol narrowed her eyes at him, uncertain where this was going and what exactly he was expecting of her. She hadn’t seen him for days, the last time he fled the room after she had patched him up after they had shared a moment and now he was looking at her in a way that spoke of knowledge. 

“First gifts and now flattery,” she surmised, head tilting to the side in suspicious curiosity. “What next? You whisk me away to a distant planet and we live happily ever after?

“What is this?” She asked cautiously. 

“Another present,” Kylo answered, stepping closer to her. His presence overwhelmed her, dominant, predatory, sexual, followed by the scent of smoke. Kylo Ren had always been restrained, controlled to the point where he seemed to battle every movement, but now he seemed strangely open. There had been a transformation in how he related to her, how he thought of her and Sol wasn’t sure where it came from. Or what to expect. 

It was what she wanted, wasn't it? To get under his skin, to have him view her as an opportune partner rather than an opponent. The last time they were together had changed things completely. Sol wasn't sure whether to trust it. Was it a trap? A play at something? What the fuck was he planning?

“A junk ship?”

“A proposal,” Kylo corrected, stepping away and holding out his arm for Sol to take. She regarded him for a moment, debating whether to run in the face of his change of heart. No, she wasn’t one to run. Not from that. And she’d be lying if she wasn’t curious. Sol took his arm with a smile, allowing Kylo to lead her towards the ship. 

“What kind of proposal?”

“You will understand when you see.” Kylo leads her into the dimly lit ship, the smell of burned flesh and circuits prominent. Sol wrinkled her nose at the smell, lips pressing together and eyes narrowing in an attempt to see through the lingering smoke and dim light. Then her eyes got used to the light, the silhouette turning into clear bodies, lined up on their knees, hands tied behind their back and heads covered by linen bags. Sol was confused and glanced up at Kylo. 

“You said once that you wanted to be partners,” Kylo acknowledged in a far more trustworthy way than what she had initially said. His voice was filled with possibility, while hers had been laced in manipulation and deceit. 

“Are you offering a partnership?”

“Yes.” Kylo looked to one of his knights and nodded curtly. The knight began pulling off the hoods, the prisoners squinting in the darkness, eyes trying to conform. Some had burns of blaster fire on their skin, clothes dirty and ragged, torn and scorched. At first, she didn’t recognize anyone, but then the one in the middle had the hood torn away, revealing a familiar face. _ Emoryn Landing. _ It was clear he didn’t realise who she was, and why should he? She was decked out in expensive materials, her hair was no longer cut into uneven tots, she had a distant look in her eyes, unseeing and haunted. 

Sol breathed in, making her bones into iron, fire and poison pour through her veins, heart becoming stone, bathed in the waters of vengeance. Her teeth became a vicious weapon, fangs, and nails clawlike talons she’d use tear her enemies apart, one bloody piece at the time. Physically, she hadn’t changed to at call, but she felt her soul transform in the face of revenge,  _ justice _ . 

Kylo had given her what she wanted. The name may have been low on the list, but it was on the list. He had made a gift of vengeance and she’d thank him…  _ She’d thank him. _

Sol could feel Kylo’s eyes on her, feel his energy pour out around her, wrapping her body in the powerful tendrils, a caress, a promise. This was her time and he would watch, drink her in as she took what was hers. It was addicting, -his presence. Though he didn’t touch her, she knew he’d back her, that he’d not intervene. He’d watch with glee, pride.

Fueled by darkness and burning retribution, Sol stepped in front of Emoryn, his mirky eyes filled with panic, fear and concealed anger. It was embarrassing to be on his knees, to have been diminished this way when he was the captain, a man of influence and reprise.  _ A pirate.  _

“Let my crew go,” Emoryn implored, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. “I’m the captain, my crew was only following orders.”

It was amicable the way he played the humble captain who only thinks of the good of his crew. That wasn’t what she knew him for. She knew him for the brutal pirate he was, the one that had attacked the merchant ship she had hidden in after escaping Ori with General Jihoon, knew him as the man that had torn through the ship, not in search for wears but for people, knew him as the man that had cut the general down when he had tried to protect her and then shot her up with a sedative when Sol had begun her own attack. 

“Do you remember me,  _ Captain _ ?” Sol questioned, lifting Emoryn’s chin and forcing him to look her directly in the face. Why should he remember her after all this time? He had sold hundreds if not thousands into slavery, why should one face stand out against all the others. 

Because she wanted it to. 

“I’ve seen a lot-,”

“You’ve sold a lot,” Sol cut off, voice biting and filled with anger. Her nail scraped over the skin underneath his chin as she withdrew her hand, raising to her full height. 

With him on his knees in front of her, entirely at her mercy, and Kylo backing her she felt powerful. It was addictive. The rush of power coursing through her, leaving her heart beating rapidly in her chest, left her soul vibrating within the constraints of her being. 

“I suppose you shouldn’t remember me. There must have been many faces,” Sol continued, beginning her walk down the line, eyes running over each whimpering, shaking member of his crew. It was vindicating to see them like this. On their knees for once. 

The memory was distinct, one that often surfaced during sleep and tore through dreams until she woke in a shutter, covered in sweat. The memory of being forced on her knees in a lineup like this, how her head was clouded with anaesthesia, body weak and shivering, barely covered in anything but a layer of sweat and grime. They had all been stuffed in a small room, hardly big enough for everyone to have a place to sit, surrounded by darkness and whimpering. And then they’d get pulled out for a lineup. Those who were rowdy were either subdued by drugs or the stinging jab of an electric baton. 

They could have been there for days, weeks, months even. It was hard to tell. Sometimes, they’d pull distinctive people out and often they wouldn’t return. It was only when  _ she _ came that they were all washed with coarse brushes that left angry red marks on their skin, layers removed. 

She remembered how she was in awe of the Red Lady. She’d been so clean, decked in a luxurious red dress that matched her hair. The scent of flowers followed her, the first time in ages Sol had smelled anything that wasn’t something that could turn her stomach. Lady Red, as her chosen ones came to call her, Mother, had soft skin unblemished and unmarked by the travesty of imprisonment. Sol had wanted to be picked, just to get away from Emoryn and his goons, not knowing she’d enter a pit of snakes that was far, far worse than what had been done to her by the slavers. 

Sol remembered the wisp Lady Red carried, a branch covered in gold. 

“But you should remember me,” Sol continued, voice unwaveringly cold. “You should remember the only girl you sold to the Red Lady.” 

The crew wasn’t someone she recognized. None of their faces told her anything except shivering fear. Sol couldn’t help the twisted sort of satisfaction she got at watching them cower, plead for mercy she didn’t possess in this circumstance. She couldn’t help but feel powerful. 

They were a ragtag bunch, that much was for sure. Perhaps Emoryn told the truth, that he was no longer in the game of slavery, Sol couldn’t tell if she believed him or not, that he was capable of changing so much over the well around half a decade since he sold her to Lady Red. She had changed, hadn’t she? But change doesn’t absolve his past crimes, not to her. Believing a man such as Emoryn, that sold people into terrible conditions, who cut the throat of those who opposed him in any way, the man who had greed shining in his eyes, would change to be what? A reformed slaver?

Sol was biased against him and she’d not apologize for it.

When she returned to stand in front of Emoryn she grabbed his jaw with force, nails sharp and cutting, digging into his flesh with a force that’d break the skin. Her face twisted and she leaned down to hiss at him. “Take a good long look at me!”

Emoryn’s pale eyes darted over her features, hard and scrutinizing…  _ Terrified _ . The muscles of his jaw clenched beneath her fingers as he tried to keep composed.

“What does it feel like being on your knees and at  _ my _ mercy?” She snarled at him, releasing his chin by pushing his face away from her. Red crescents dotted his face. He tried to be composed, to swallow his wounded pride and look as submissive as possible while also having a spark of defiance. Sol knew the look and hated it. 

“Your grudge is with me not my crew. I beg you,  _ please _ , let them go.” 

“Those pleas must taste bitter in your mouth,” Sol commented, poison lacing each and every word. “How many times have you heard it? How many times did you grant mercy?” 

Emoryn swallowed. “These people have nothing to do with who I was. They’re good people.” 

He cared for them Sol realised. Was this his family? Were they bringing him comfort? Sol didn’t care. To her, they were just as guilty as Emoryn. She didn’t care for who they were or whether they were ‘good people’, what she cared for was revenge. 

She shook her head. “Do you know what you sold me into?” 

Anger boiled within her chest, burned through her veins with enough force it made her shake. To be faced with the man who sold her to Lady Red was enough to be blind to everything else. The power it granted her to see him on his knees was addictive and Sol relished it. She felt it coil within her. 

“My mercy ran dry long ago,” Sol finished and with that, she turned to Kylo eyes meeting his, and she was filled with gratification, with the need to fulfil darkness brewing inside of her, so alluring and addictive. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber and in one swift move, with her dress blooming around her, she twirled to face Emoryn, saber igniting and casting the crimson light to paint the fearful faces of the crew. It sputtered and burned, hummed with a low promise of a painful but quick death. The saber blade burned Emoryn’s skin as Sol held it close to him, the red light pouring over him like blood. 

Then she held the blade high ready for the sweep of death. The saber crackled through the air and burned through the skin as if it was made of butter, cut down through flesh and bone with little resistance as if the blade itself wanted more. The body fell with a scream cut short by the angle of which the blade cut through. Emoryn stared at the dead crew member with horror in his eyes, shaking violently. 

Sol didn’t stop until every single crew member had been cut down, their bodies in various pieces, the smell of burned flesh filling the air to a nauseating degree. There wasn’t much blood, the blood vessels being cauterized by the searing blade. 

She approached the captain, the red light of the saber painting her face with righteousness and twisting her eyes to be something to be feared. “Death is far too quick. I will have you suffer, long and hard, as I have.

“Have you heard of the Orian water method?” Sol asked. “We have this water that is so oxygenised that you can breathe in it. In it it’s not so horrible, it is the transition from air to water that is the worst. You’ll feel like your drowning, your whole body screaming as water fills your lungs and then again when transitioning to air. It’s absolutely horrible. But what makes it a perfect torture device is shutting you in a little black box where you won't be able to see or hear anything, and then fill it with water over and over, again and again.  _ You will be begging for death _ .”

The Orian water method is said to be one of the worst. It had been used in wartimes millennia ago and was now banned for its horrific effect. It was used against spies and traitors to get information, to punish. Many had gone absolutely mad. 

The pure look of terror Emoryns eyes and the growing wet spot in his pants only served to make Sol smile, sinister and satisfied. Some may call her merciless, ruthless, heartless. And all of it was true when it came to those who hurt her on a fundamental level when it came to her list of names. To those, she had no mind for mercy. Not for what they had done. 

Sol turned and was just able to step out of the way as Emoryn threw himself at her skits, hands grabbing at air, trying to stop her from leaving while he pleaded her. With a straight back, she walked to Kylo and handed him the saber, her red lips pursed in a smirk. She left the ship with hurried steps, heart drumming in her chest, body shaking with the sheer force of adrenaline coursing through her, vindicated and gloating. Her breath came quick and short. 

She had reached their room when she heard Kylo come in behind her, the sound of his helmet being placed on a table following. Without a second thought, Sol pivoted around on her heels, strode the few steps towards him and connected their lips in a heated kiss that once again ignited her blood. Her hand reached around his head and her fingers wrapped themselves in his soft locks. They were much softer than she thought the would be. 

Kylo kissed her back with a vengeance, his big hands slipping around her waist to press her further into his body. They were both high on blood and power. Lust consumed their thoughts and every action. Kylo’s lips were hard, almost bruising. He hungered for more, for more of her. Sol reciprocated his need. 

Sol’s hands untangled from his hair and slid down his body, wrapping around his waistband and loosened it, tossing the wretched thing to the side, and then went for his outer coat. With quick and nimble fingers Sol managed to rip the coat off, letting it fall to the ground, neither of them separating. They barely separated for air. 

“I want it,” Sol breathed out while Kylo kissed his way down her jaw. “I want the crown.”

“I will give it to you,” Kylo declared with enough leverage that Sol believed him fully. He’d give her the throne back, what was rightfully hers. He’d give her the galaxy if she wanted, and she’d give him what she could.  _ She’d give him her. _

Kylo wrapped his arms around Sol and walked her backwards until she hit the table. Sol tore at the fabric of his thin tunic, ripping it to pieces to run her hands over the skin of his chest, fingers brushing against muscle and scars. Kylo’s lips kissed their way down her neck, teeth scraping and nibbling against the soft skin unmarred by her past. She was so smooth, he thought, so soft. 

A moan escaped her as she slipped her hand past the waist of his trousers, eyes rolling back in pleaser at the feeling of him in her hand, heavy, thick and long. It was mouthwatering. When she gave him a pump of her hand, Kylo’s hips buckled forward, forehead coming to rest at her shoulder as a moan was drawn from his chest, low and rumbling. 

Next thing she heard was the ripping of fabric and felt cool air brush against her bare chest, Kylo’s hands ripping the dress apart as if it were nothing, tearing it right down her chest. His hands explored the newly revealed skin feverishly, rough calloused skin brushing against the pale gold of her unblemished skin. Sol let out a chuckled, biting her lip. The sight was enough to make Kylo’s hips jut forward again, lips finding hers quickly. 

Sol broke apart from his intoxicating lips to let out a moan, his fingers brushing against her nipples. “Ah, fuck.” 

Kylo smirked at her curse, felt her moan tickle down his spine like the brush of a finger, stomach coiling. He wanted to be buried in that cunt of hers. He was sure it would be heaven. She’d been so vexing, the way she had dangled sex over his head for so long. By the stars had he been frustrated, so much so that the warmth of his own hand wasn’t satisfying enough. Kylo’s hands bunched in the material of her skirt and tore it apart in one pull. He was going to bury himself in her, make her forget everything else but his cock. 

Sol wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her, Kylo fitting his way between her legs, hands gripping her hips. She pressed her lips to his in a feverish kiss, all teeth and tongue and fire. Sol kissed him like there was nothing else, a kiss fueled by a growing need that had been building over time. There was nothing soft between them, this wasn’t ‘making love’ this was much rougher, build on desperation and bloodlust. 

Blood was drawn from his lip as Sol nibbed at it. Kylo withdrew and looked at her with dark hungry eyes. She smirked at him, then turned around placing her palms against the table and looked over her shoulder, the smirk never leaving. Kylo’s eyes almost rolled too far back in his head, he licked the blood off his lip with a savage smirk of his own. More fabric was torn. Kylo found his way between her legs, his length brushing against her dripping core. Sol couldn’t remember the last time she had been this turned on. She needs him to complete her. 

“My my, how far you’ve come,” Kylo chided from behind her, the head of his cock brushing over her pussy that pulsated with need. Sol’s nails raked against the table, scratching. Without further ado, Kylo pressed himself into her soft folds, head rolling back to release a guttural groan. Sol bit her lip at the feeling of him, slowly stretching her out, slowly but surely pressing his way into her. The stretch was delicious, bordering on painful. It’d been so long since she had a good fuck. 

Kylo buried himself completely and kept still, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, leaving traces of black and blue. He could feel her stirring at the outer corners of his mind, the force bringing together in more ways than one. She was breathing hard, her heart fluttering in her chest in rapid beats. She glanced over her shoulder at him, lips swollen with kisses and lipstick smeared over her skin. It made her look all the more inviting. Kylo smirked at her and began to withdraw, her eyes fluttering and head ducking at the feeling, pale hair falling around her shoulders inviting his fingers to wrap themselves in the waves of silver. Kylo thrust forward sending electrifying pleasure through the both of them.

He began a fast pace, hips jutting to hers with bruising need, burying himself in her wet and silky folds to the very hilt each and every time. The pace was maddening, it coiled in her stomach and drew quips of moans from her parted lips. She felt so full. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and the lewd sounds of her wet pussy filled the room. If anyone entered they’d get the full display. 

Then Kylo pulled out and Sol let out a small whine, pussy clenching around nothing. Kylo turned her towards him and placed a starving kiss on her lips, bringing her back towards the table, lifting her up to sit perched on it. He would have her where he could see her properly. Sol parted her legs for him with no hesitation, fingers running over his chest and around his neck. He entered her again, this time not letting up. The pace became impossibly quick, her hips trying to meet his speed but became sloppy when she felt the coil of orgasm build within her. Her breaths were rugged, drawn in between parted lips and let out again in melodic moans. Her breasts moved with the sheer force of his snapping hips, bouncing and looking ever so inviting. Kylo’s hand went from her chest, to wrap itself around the side of her head, bringing her face close to his. His eyes were dark fire, filled with lust so primal it could belong to an animal. His face turned to a sneer as his thrusts became more erratic, seeking resolution in her warm sweet pussy. 

Sol fell over the edge first, the orgasm built from the time they entered the room washing over her like a tidal wave, a long drawn out moan leaving her from deep within her chest. Kylo followed quickly after, hips thrusting a few shallow thrusts before eventually coming to a stop. His forehead found solace in the crook of Sol’s neck, the both of them breathing heavily. They stayed like that for a while to regain their breath. 

Sol was the first to speak and let out a chuckle. “You owe me a new dress.”

“I’ll give you all the dress' you want,” Kylo replied from the crook of his neck, a smile evident in his voice. Sol brushed his hair out of his face and cubed his cheek, eyes shining with the afterglow of a good orgasm. 

“Careful, I might just bankrupt you,” Sol teased. 

“You won't,” Kylo answered with confidence. 

Sol discarded the dress while Kylo removed his boots, ruffling his hair before he hitched his pants back up on his hips. Sol reached down and picked up his boot, turning it over in her hand as she examined it. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just checking,” Sol answered cryptically, then threw the boot back on the ground and elaborated. “Had to check if you’re really that tall or it was the boots that did it.”

Kylo looked at her as if she had spawned two heads, then scoffed with a hidden smile. 

When Kylo had offered her the revenge she so dearly wished for, -he offered her more than the both of them could possibly understand-, and Sol, ravenous and yearning, wishing desperately to be safe, she takes his hand and everything he offers. She’ll take it all. And together, they’d concur their deepest fears and open up an impossible future. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so I've begun the 'dark power couple' storyline that will unfold to something else. It is not love, but it is a start. For now they will be ruled by lust and there will be a few explicit chapters to come. 
> 
> Enemies-->Reluctant truce-->Sorta frenimies-->Dark Power Couple-->? What is next? 
> 
> Next chapter will be more fluff leading up to chapter 17, which is quite big and I'm working on. Depending on how much I get written this next week we'll see if I'm able to update this weekend as always. Chapter 17 should also deepen understanding of Sol's past with Lady Red as we meet one of her 'Sisters'. 
> 
> Tell me what you think! Are you excited about this development? Do you have notes? Do you see a pattern or do you have a theory?


	16. Slow beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eon trains Sol. Sol and Kylo have some bonding time.

“You’re not trying,” Eon scolded.

“I am trying,” Sol replied, eyes closed in an effort to focus whatever force she had to do something, anything to the small iron ball lying on the mat in front of her. They had been at it for a while now and still, there was no progress. Kylo had meetings to attend and Eon had been ordered to take up a teaching position in Sol’s training. So far it didn't go well.

“You’re not.”

“I am.” Whatever they wanted her to do she clearly wasn’t capable of doing. Let an emotion fill you, use it to fuel your power, make it move. She tried, she really did try but nothing was coming of it. When she closed her eyes and focused on what she felt in the moment it felt as if there was nothing, just physical things. Even with Kylo or Eon breathing down her neck and getting her more and more annoyed, nothing happened. Even if they began prodding at her past, invoking enough feelings for her to snap a sword over their head, the ball wouldn’t move. 

Eon sighed and she could hear that he was rolling his neck. The chance where that if Eon didn’t wear a helmet he’d be sure to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Close your eyes.”

Sol made a face and compiled, pressing eyes together like a child getting caught glancing around during meditation. Hadn’t she warned them that meditation wasn’t her thing? She distinctly remembers saying something like that. 

“Keeping my eyes closed doesn’t help,” Sol muttered annoyed. Restlessness began to stir in her. 

“You need to shut out everything else and-,”

“Focus on one feeling, use it to reach out and make the ball move, yes, I’m aware of how it goes, but I don’t understand it. How can me feeling angry or annoyed make anything move?” 

“The force relies on emotions. Use your emotion to fuel your intention of moving something, anything.” Eon had tried to explain it to her over and over again, in multiple different ways. None of them seemed to get through to her and she could feel that he was not only beginning to get impatient but also think her an idiot. Sol was far from an idiot. 

“I understand the theory of it, not the practice,” Sol grumbled through gritted teeth. “I hear what you are saying and understand the gist of it,-”

“It’s like teaching lightspeed physics to a toddler,” Eon savagely cut in, not filtering his annoyance through vague speech and the voice of a mentor. It made Sol crack a smile despite the offence of it. 

They gave it a shot again, Eon spouting some mentoring shit Sol had heard various times in various ways, and Sol doing her best to make the little, ever-so-throwable ball fly, hover, no, just fucking move. It just had to move. Nothing. Sol let out a frustrated sigh, beginning to feel stiff due to sitting on the mat for so long. Her mind began to wander, wondering what Kylo was doing, if he were able to keep his annoyance in check and not destroy The Generals precious ship. She hoped not just out of spite of Hux. 

“Do you think anyone else got away?” Eon asked, his voice calm and collected. Sol lifted an eyebrow but still didn’t open her eyes. “Do you think it’s possible someone else got away that day?”

Now she knew what he was talking about. Opening her eyes, Sol stared at the motionless mask, narrowing her eyes in suspicion unsure why he was asking. Was this a way to invoke an reaction or is it something he had wondered about for a long time? Sol pursed her lips, head tilting in thought. “It’s not impossible but… I saw them slaughter my family.” The memory of the finest silks of Ori being stained in blood, seeping through every stitch, every threat, torn and deadly. Sol swallowed the memories, the echoes of her siblings screams echoing in her mind, sending a cold finger running down her spine. And that gurgling sound her sister made, eyes wide with fear, begging for salvation, lips parted and overpoured with blood and that… Wound in her throat. Sol could still feel the blood covering her hands, warm and sticky. “The only one that could possibly have survived was Allora and I heard they blew up her ship. No one survived being blown up in outer space.”

“They also said they had killed you,” Eon noted. 

“If Allora was alive she’d have opposed Vox long ago.” She’d have found me, Sol thought. Allora was a lot of things, she was compassionate, clever, forgiving and kind, but she was also the next in line to the throne if anything would have happened to Mun, she was raised as a contender to the throne and though she was far more benevolent than Sol was, she was also raised to pass judgement, to contain her feelings and do what was right. Allora was levelheaded and was rarely ruled by her feelings. 

Sol was sure if her sister had survived she’d have gone against Vox long ago. Vox would see what a good ruler was like. Sol wouldn’t be so controlled. When she came for the throne she’d bathe the crown in traitor's blood, there’d be no kindness. It’d be an eye for an eye. He slaughtered her whole family, every single person with a drop of royal blood, whether they posed a threat or not. She’d bathe the land in his bloodline. 

“It’s not impossible but I don’t think it’s possible either,” Sol finished moments before Kylo entered, cape fluttering around his tall dark form, mask secure on his face. Eon stood and bowed to his master. 

“Any progress,” Kylo inquired, lifting the bucket off his head to let fresh air brush against warm skin. Sol glanced at Eon, eyes narrowed in threat. Eon just looked at his master and went ‘No.’ 

Sol sprawled out over the mat like an indignant child, annoyed by her inability to use the force and even more annoyed by the expectations of her being able to control something so abstract. “Why should I be able to use the force when I’m so capable of just lifting the ball of the ground and throwing it.” As she spoke Sol picked up the ball and tossed it at Eon’s head, narrowly missing when he crooked his head to the side. 

“Tossing it only helps you so far,” Eon said and made a motion with his hand, sending the ball flying at Sol. It bonked against her head and landed with a thud. Sol threw herself back on the mat and held what would become a bump on her head cursing Eon out in Ori. What he didn’t understand couldn’t hurt him. 

“Perhaps we should up the stakes,” Kylo mused to Eon. 

“It is a possibility,” Eon agreed, looking down at Sol withering on the floor with a glance of adversity, feeling clearly that she might be a lost cause in this area of the force. 

“Could it be that my teachers does not know how to teach?” Sol quipped from the floor annoyed at the two men talking over her like she wasn’t there. Both of them ignored her. 

“Physically she’s able to keep up,” Eon continued. “She’s progressed a lot from when she began.”

“I was tortured.”

“She’s become better at protecting herself.”

“I would like to see you fight an anger fueled giant after days of physical and mental torture.” They continued to ignore her. 

“There’s a long way to go still,” Kylo commented. “Without being able to use the force she’s still at a disadvantage that I’m not willing to take.” 

“How sweet,” Sol muttered on the floor with a sigh, not loud enough to invoke a reaction but loud enough to be noted. “I’m sorry but why is my force abilities so important when you’ve all but destroyed the Jedi? Who’s there left to fear? Everyone else is without the force too or untrained, they don't pose a threat.”

Kylo turned to her with a serious expression upon his face and a voice filled with bitter disdain. “Skywalker is still alive. That is a threat in itself. Being able to control the force will give you an advantage and I won’t have to have my knights babysit you.” 

Sol narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t discuss it any further. He was right, annoyingly so. Being able to force throw someone through the room would be a pleasure in itself. Still, being referred to as a child wasn’t fun. 

In the end Kylo took over the training session, dismissing Eon. The cape was put away, along with the heavy coat and the waistband, leaving him in the usual tunic that revealed the traces of his collarbone, still marked by Sol’s work of bruises and nibbles. She’d find claw marks on his back. 

“We’ve been invited to a party,” Kylo told as he tossed her a blade, this time neither made of wood or dull, but of sharp metal that promised to bite. Sol really wasn’t up for being cut to pieces. 

“Oh?” Sol twirled the sword in her hand, testing the weight and warming her muscles. 

“It will be your debut as my wife.” 

“Don’t give me that look,” Kylo ordered as he came out of his training session with Sol meeting Eon in the hall and leaving her naked on the mat tossing and catching the small metal ball over and over again. 

In a monotone voice, Eon answered. “I’m not giving you a look.”

“You are judging me,” Kylo elaborated, stopping to face Eon. He could feel it, the judgment, the sliver of emotion coming off of his knight. It was annoying, and concerning. 

“No, Master.”

“Speak your mind, Eon.”

“I’m concerned that you may lose sight of what she is.”

“I know what she is.” Kylo wasn’t stupid, he knew that she was a deceiver, that just because they’ve fuck doesn’t mean she won’t still be playing the game. He had given her something she wanted, a taste of it, and she had taken what she could with the promise of more. He’d give her a crown and in return she’d give him her, someone he wanted to…. Confide in, perhaps, in the future. Giving her the crown now would be shooting himself in the foot. She was doing everything to get under his skin, to make him need her in more ways than one, he was aware of it. It was a way to secure herself. But he also knew that he was getting under her skin, that she was getting attached even if she didn’t realise it. Sol was clever when it came to others but she could be blind to how much he was affecting her. She was writing it off as attraction. 

Kylo wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t all in, he was playing the game. Together, he knew that they’d be able to conquer the galaxy, but there was a price for that, an emotional one. The Supreme Leader was wise, he knew what they could be and Kylo trusted in his vision. 

“Are you sure you’re not acting irrationally? Perhaps, you’re too close to this,” Kylo said, frown deepening under his helmet. 

“I fear for you, Master.”

“I don’t need your fear, I need you to do as I tell you.”

“If you give her what she wants now-,”

“I’m not giving her what she wants now, I have given her a taste of it. Serving up the throne of Ori and the Red Lady now wouldn’t service us. She tasted the power and now she wants more, that makes her compliant.”

“You’re using her.”

“We’re using each other.”

“Do you not fear you come to…”

“What? Love her?” He hadn’t thought much of it. Love was the great destroyer. It was walking a rope high up in the air, one misstep and you’d plunge to your death, either falling because of it or falling by the loss of it. Some Sith Lords were driven by the passion, together with the one that they loved, great and terrible. It was admirable. To have such a great love. But the loss of it could destroy completely. You’d either break or be fueled by vengeance. Maybe that was what Snoke had in mind. Kylo wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it, wanted to take the chance. 

If he had to love her, he would do so guarded. 

Kylo shook his head. Love… A sneer formed on his face. No. It wouldn’t be love. He’d have love before and they all betrayed him. “Love isn’t a part of it.”

Kylo walked away, Eon peering after him with an uneasy churn in his stomach. Kylo may see through Sol, but Eon saw through the both of them, and what he saw was concerning. They could deny all they want but at some point it may hit them and Eon was worried what would happen then. 

  
  


They had left early in the morning in a ship big enough for a battalion of 80 and a group of generals, including Hux, and with that the ship seemed so small. Hux and his posse of generals stayed out of sight, much to Sol’s appreciation. Eon didn’t join their excursion but two other knights did, neither of them especially talkative nor very approachable. In that regard Eon seemed like the odd one. Perhaps it was because he was the one she had spend the most time with. 

Sol explored the ship, this time dressed more like Kylo in a coat with heavy sleeves reminiscent of the style from Ori, black and thick fabric. Her hair was pinned up in a tight bun ordained with a black iron pin through it. She herself felt that the look demanded both respect and fear, though she sorely missed her frivolous looks that seemed out of place. She had felt that traveling like this she had to conform, but she did have two trunks filled with dresses for the party. 

She peeked into the pilot cabin and was surprised to see Kylo in the pilot's seat. Surely they had pilots capable of flying them. Sol entered quietly, the door closing behind her with a click. Kylo didn’t have to look to know it was her. 

“You’re a pilot,” Sol stated obviously. She couldn’t imagine Snoke had taught him, nor had him taught. Piloting seemed something those in power let others do. “Who taught you?” 

“It’s in my blood,” Kylo replied, voice distorted through the visor of his helmet. “My father taught me the moment I could comprehend and my grandfather was the greatest pilot in history.” There were a strain in his voice that told her that it was dangerous territory. It wasn’t above her prodding him for information but for now she’d let it rest. His past was a mystery she’d find out one way or another, she was after all still awaiting news from T’haki. He was taking his sweet, sweet time. What would she do with the information now that Kylo and her had joined forces? Having the information as a backup plan, that's what. Kylo didn’t offer up much information so she had to dig. Knowing his past would help her to predict his ‘future’, and by future, she meant how to handle whatever was thrown her way. 

They may be together now, man and wife, but that didn’t mean she was letting herself get blind sighted. 

Sol placed a hand on Kylo’s shoulder, eyes curiously running over the instrument board and the stars streaking past them as they moved through lightspeed. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to fly but I fear I’m no good.”

She could feel Kylo smile behind his mask, eyes peering up at her as she read the labels on the console. “I could teach you.” 

Kylo pressed a button and moved out of the pilot letting Sol sit in his warmth. He squatted down on her level, one hand on the small of her back, the other free to point as he told her what the different buttons did. Sol listened to his words with a small smile that continued to blossom on her lips, a child-like wonder at having the galaxy at her fingertips. 

“If we crash I’m blaming you,” Sol teased, hands wrapping around the steering, while Kylo brought them out of lightspeed. 

“We won't crash, there’s nothing for thousands of paces around us,” he pointed towards the radar, showing clear skies all the way. Still, Sol couldn’t help but imagine the worst. Piloting required much more understanding of space than she possessed and the relativity between objects she had never been taught. It was a daunting task that made her heart flutter in her chest. 

“Trust me, crashing is a very real possibility with me at the helm.” 

“When I push this button it’s all you,” Kylo informed, making her stomach churn. His leather clad finger hovered over it for a mere second before pushing down. At first it felt as if nothing happened but then the steering became heavier and more temperamental. It didn’t take much before swerving and still somehow it required a firm pressure. Different parameters began to justle to life, the indicator swinging to and from, numbers rising and falling. Then a few lights went on, blinking angrily at her. The whole ship began to shake with turbulence. 

That was when Kylo decided to take over again, flicking a few switches, pressing some buttons and steering the ship into calmness once more. “How can you be that terrible at flying?”

“I told you!” Sol whined, half indignant half amused. She slipped out of the seat and let Kylo take her place, steering a few moments more before entering lightspeed again, then pressing the auto-pilot button. His mask then turned to her. “I told you! I don’t have the talent to fly.”

“You can easily cut down your enemy, you’re a skilled shooter and a quick thinker, but you can’t fly?”

“We can’t all be good at everything,” Sol complained. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be having a mini-hiatus for a few weeks. Everything is fine but I've got a writer's block even though I know what the next 3 chapters are about. And trust me, I will return because you will want to know what happens next and how all of this eventually ties up.   
> I just need a break. 
> 
> Your comments ALWAYS give me the inspiration to write so please keep them coming, especially when they're detailed and just.. gaaahhh!!


	17. The Debut of a Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sols debut as the wife of Kylo Ren. Some old clients are there as well as an old friend. 
> 
> Rated M. You can skip the smut if you want, but there's a sentence Kylo says at the end of the chapter that's important.

Sol was sitting in front of the vanity putting another pin into her hair, the silver piece glittering in the light. She had chosen the look of silver and purple, wrapped in its magnificence, to make a proper introduction into the society of the Order. In the mirror she observed Kylo entering with a frown on his face. 

“What should I be expecting?” Sol inquired, eyes watchful in the mirror while spraying perfume on her wrists and neck. 

“I should be asking you, you were after all brought up in court,” Kylo replied, frown deepening. “I hate these things. They’re a waste of time.” 

“Just because they aren’t about physically fighting doesn’t mean it’s not a fight.” Sol rose from the vanity, purple dress ordained with silver embroidery, small pearls woven into the light fabric. The dress hugged her frame, waist synched, a slit running up her leg to reveal her soft flesh and a dangerously low dip in her neckline. It wasn’t as heavy as it could be, she didn’t wish to seem as off-putting as Kylo and figured that a softer look would make her more approachable. Sol was meant to be the inviting one, while Kylo remained the cold, mysterious man that embodied the many tales about him. 

“It’s a pit of snakes,” Kylo confirmed the disdain evident in his voice. “Why my presence is needed is beyond me.”

“Your presence is needed because you’re a pillar of the Order and the Supreme Leaders apprentice. Such things come with appearances like this. Besides, you won't be alone this time,” Sol added coming up to Kylo, hands flattening the fabric out over his chest, then her nimble fingers helped button the collar. It was such a small thing, a show of affection, and yet it seemed to ease the tension in both of them. Yes, at least they won't be alone. 

“Most often they try and avoid me,” Kylo confessed, eyes examining her face and the growing smile on her purple lips, crowned by a touch of silver. 

“It’s the tin can you put on your head, it's not very approachable.”

“That is what it’s meant for. I don’t want to be approachable. They’re all just clamouring for power and none of them is of importance. ” 

“They must be of some importance to be here,” Sol noted, eyes flashing briefly to Kylo’s. Whether Kylo wanted these people to be important or not didn’t matter. What mattered was their credit pouch and their connections. That is where Kylo and Hux were vastly different. Hux knew how important it was to grease gears, that connections could make or break something like the First Order. Without the help of those with influence, the Order would quickly fall apart. Kylo didn’t care much for it. He prefered to talk with a lightsaber in his hand. Despite that, Kylo also knew that his appearance, however off-putting it was, was all in all-important, especially if he were to get anywhere. That didn’t mean he had to like it. 

“They’re all just flies.” Kylo sat down on the bed with a sigh, leaning back on his hands. 

“Let them buzz.” Sol straddled him, lifting her dress high enough to sit comfortably on his thighs, hands gripping his shoulders. Kylo quirked a brow at her. 

“I have to warn you,” Sol began, seriousness falling over her features. “In these circles, I do have some…  _ past clients,  _ shall we call them?” She wasn’t sure how he’d take it, to be faced with past clients all of whom had purchased intimacy. To some, it’d be daunting, near excruciating, to others it may be but a footnote. She feared one of them might taunt Kylo to the point of eruption. 

Kylo observed her face, reading the small micro-expressions she tried so hard to hide. The dress bunched under his hands as he ran his fingers up her thighs taking hold on the thickest part. “All of whom know you intimately.” 

“ _ I _ know  _ them _ intimately. I know what they like, what makes them purr and what sets them off. I often know intimate details of their lives, things they’ve never revealed to anyone, secrets they’d rather keep hidden. I know them but they don’t know me,” Sol clarified, a soft smile on her lips. If any one of them were to poke fun at Kylo, she wasn’t sure if his anger would end up reflecting towards her after having decimated them. “Still, they may taunt and mock…”

All she needed right now was for some idiot to ruin the development between them that she had worked so hard on. The list would become one name richer if that happened. Their newfound progress was strong but still fragile in the sense that it was new and untested. It was filled with more lustful passion that direct affection, something she was working on. If she were to integrate herself as someone important enough to keep alive on her own, she needed Kylo to depend on her… 

“ _ Let them buzz _ ,” Kylo replied. Relief washed over her, though she was still on guard. The smile grew on her lips as Kylo pressed her hips towards his, leaning up to steal a kiss. Sol veered away with a chuckle, pushing against his shoulders. 

“You are not ruining my makeup!” Kylo had to content himself with pressing his lips against her neck, soft and nibbling. “Don’t you dare leave marks, all I need right now is for people to think I’m shameless.” Sol pushed herself off of Kylo, letting her skirts tumble down in place and pushing her hands over the fabric for good measure. 

Kylo threw himself back on the bed, running his hands through his hair. “But you are shameless.” 

“How rude!” Sol chastise with a chuckle. The mask was heavy and cool to her touch. By itself it wasn’t nearly as frightening, it was just a mask, but on him it was a symbol, a statement,  _ a demand _ . It turned into something else entirely. She didn’t mind it. Kylo came up to her. “I don’t need them to know.”

“They already know.” His grin disappeared under the helmet. With a hiss it fell into place. The playful energy about him was replaced with something darker and more serious. Sol followed suit. She brushed her hands over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his finer outfit. It wasn’t what he usually wore, though it had the resemblance of it. There were buttons of matted iron, emblazoned with the crest of the First Order and the epaulette on his shoulders dangling black tendrils. The cape made of dark cotton reaching all the way to the floor, almost but not quite brushing it. By his side were his lightsaber, a threatening display. 

“You look beautiful,” Kylo said, voice distorted through the visor but still strangely soft. Sol glanced up at him in surprise, the silver of the hairpiece clinking together from the movement. The answer was a smile. 

The two exited the room, walking down the hall towards the Galla. Sol had her arm in his, holding onto him as they walked. His steps were definitely longer than hers. 

“Commander Ren, Lady Ren,” A snide voice stopped them in their tracks, Hux coming up from behind them to block their way. His red hair was slicked back as it always was, face in its usual grave expression, though his clothes were much finer. He wore a uniform of grey and red, stripes on his shoulders showing his rank and the medallions on his chest displaying his capability as a general of The Order. He looked quite dapper. 

“General,” Kylo greeted solemnly, already annoyed by then.

“I am reminding you to behave yourselves.” Hux glared at them critically as if they were incapable of control. “There are a great many allies and potential allies here and I do not want them run off by a display of savagery. You  _ will _ control yourselves.” This was more pointed towards Kylo than Sol. Hux thought Kylo was the biggest threat to order and propriety, and clearly Sol was far less likely to be offended and go on a rampage swinging a laser sword like some kind of raging toddler. 

“Do you understand?”

“Thank you, General, for your concern,” Sol answered quickly before Kylo could chew him out. She squeezed his arm comfortingly and poised a poisonous smile at Hux. “We will be sure to keep your warnings in mind.”

Hux narrowed his blue eyes at her, then even more threateningly at Kylo before he turned on his heels, lips pressed together in a thin line. Watching him walk away with his back straight and shoulders pushed back, reminded her just how much of a stick he had up his butt. 

Sol glanced up at Kylo who returned her look. “His concern is utmost heartwarming.”

They were announced as Commander Ren and Lady Ren upon entering the grand ballroom. Columns of marble reached meters above their heads, holding up the stained glass ceiling that was sure to paint the hall in multiple colours on a sunny day. The hall was decked with banners of the order, red fabrics draped around the windows, walls decorated with paintings. The floor was also of marble, the stairs carpeted with a red mat that followed a path around the upper balconies where small crowds were gathered overlooking the festivities below them. There were bucays of flowers of the most exciting kinds, tables with food and drink from all over the galaxy and a live band playing off the side of the main hall where the dance floor was located in the middle. Everything was a mix of old and new grandeur, gold and silver everywhere. It was oddly reminiscent of festivities Sol herself had attended long ago, though usually on Ori there were a lot more colours on display, always. 

Men and women were decked in the most extravagant, yet simple and elegant clothes. The men wore their medals proudly, while the women wore stones of every kind. 

When they entered and their names were called silence seemed to fall over the crowded as everyone looked up at them. Sol couldn’t help but smirk at the thrill of it. Kylo, not so much. The further down the stairs they came, the more returned to their conversations, now a new topic at their disposal. 

As customary, Kylo and Sol were greeted. While Sol smiled and returned the kind words, Kylo remained silent and miserable.  _ Bored _ . All these people swarming around them, parasites and leeches every single one of them. 

“My, my Darling, how far you’ve come,” A voice chided bemused. Dressed in a hue of dark blue with blood red stones woven into the fabric in the shape of flowers, Holand Dane stepped into view, brown hair cut immaculate, eyes deep chocolate and ever so sharp with a wicked smirk.

Sol hid her stiffness behind a smile, a pang of dread shooting through her. Beside her Kylo scrutinized the familiarity of the man with a downward twist to his lips that only deepened when the man kissed Sol on both of her cheeks, eyes gleaming. 

“Let me introduce myself,” Holand looked toward Kylo and bowed shortly. “Holand Dane. I own the Dane Mining Company.”

Kylo remained quiet, glaring with contempt. Sol picked up the conversation as she had most of the night, playing nice even though he knew that this man made her skin crawl. 

“You should know my husband, Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, Commander of the First Order, Apprentice of the Supreme Leader.” Every title was mapped out with accuracy. 

“That is quite a lot of titles. I fear I’m much less accomplished,” Holand placed one last sharp glare at Kylo before turning his attention to Sol who kept up the smile. 

“I have to say, Darling, I was absolutely heartbroken when you left. There haven’t been a girl quite like you since, no one to keep my interest at least. It’s been lonely.” Sol crooked a brow at him, smile sharpening. So this was why he was here. To taunt her. To test Kylo’s patience. To try and humiliate. She should have known, playing nice wasn’t in Holand’s character, he wasn’t nice, he was cruel in the most infuriating way, in a way that is packaged as friendly banter. He was cruel, as he always had been. 

“I’m sure Lady Red will find you someone eventually.”  _ I hope not _ .

“It’s not the same,” Holand continued dismissively. “No one has been able to fill the spot you left.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lord Ren, it mustn't be easy to be in the company of one of Sol’s previous lovers.” Sol felt Kylo stiffen beside her, the hand on the small of her back pressing further into her skin, burning hot. It was both a comfort and a reminder that she was supposed to be the civil one. Holand was baiting him, both Kylo and Sol was well aware. 

“My husband is aware of my past.”

“If I were faced with my wife's past lovers I fear I wouldn’t be as cool and collected. Personally, I would have hunted them down each and every one.”

“My wife doesn’t need me to hunt down any of her past clients, she’s very capable of doing that herself. If she were to do it might I suggest that you start with all of those who left you unsatisfied.” Kylo’s words surprised her. She hadn’t expected that he’d be so confident in her. The way he looked at her made her realise that, in this, they were a team, unified. It was a strange sort of feeling. 

“I fear most of my past clients in this room would fall under that category,” Sol locked eyes with Holand. Her stare was cold and certain, piercing like a knife. 

“Ah, well,” Holand drawled. “Then it’s a good thing you’re above that. It wouldn’t be profitable to kill half the benefactors inhere.”

Holand got a gleam in his eyes, a bright idea springing to life, lighting up his face in a smug and taunting tone. “What  _ would _ be profitable would be to utilize her skills…” The suggestion was there, heavy and daunting. Even if it wasn’t explicitly said the meaning of it was clear. Sell Sol out as a whore once more and profit from it greatly. There was sure to be plenty of people wanting to buy both Sol and Kylo’s pride. Kylo was about to rip into him, but Sol stopped him, putting a hand on his chest and locking eyes with him silently telling him to stand down. They couldn’t afford to make a scene, it was what everyone wanted, waited for. They wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. 

Instead, Sol stepped up to the man, smile sharp as a blade and eyes wicked. “I’m sure it’s an great idea to you, Dane, but if I were you I wouldn’t want that. You see, I am so much more than a whore. I wouldn’t want someone in my position to know intimate details about me, intimate details that would not only ruin me but completely destroy my name to a point where there’s no coming back.” The smirk fell from Holand and grew onto Sol. “My husband here as enough rage towards you for the both of us, but I can be merciful. It wouldn't do you any good to taunt us again, you are but a tiny wheel in a much larger machine, one that can be replaced. I suggest you withdraw before I let my husband speak for me.” 

Kylo let his fingers brush against the lightsaber. Holand paled, knowing he had stepped too far over the line. He should count himself lucky Kylo didn’t slice the legs out from under him, literally. Holand bowed and muttered apologies, scuttling away like a frightened rabbit. 

“I’m sorry,” Sol apologized to Kylo, turning to meet him face on. “I expected  _ some _ taunts but nothing like that.”

“Don’t apologise. He’s lucky I didn’t cut him down where he stood, it was what he deserves,” Kylo grumbled, still reeling from swallowing his anger and letting Sol handle it. He had to admit that Sol was more than capable and far more lenient that he would have been. If an  _ accident _ were to happen with Dane no one would bat an eye. 

“You were formidable,” Kylo complimented as he led her away from the crowd. Was that a blush on her cheeks or just the light? 

Kylo had been roped into a conversation with some high military officials. He didn’t seem utterly invested in the tale but not entirely uninterested either, Sol thought as she watched him from across the room, snacking on a tiny cake small enough to eat in one mouthful. The music poured out, lively and nice, astoundingly different from the music on Ori. The room moved around her, dancers twirling and intertwining on the dance floor, observers in clusters on the balconies above, eyes peering down in judgement. That was what it was, judgement. Everything was taken in, scrutinized and judged. 

“You’ve gained weight,” a familiar voice spoke above the tunes. Moré looked stunning as always, wrapped in a scandalous dress of red, the neckline plunging to her navel, the fabric barely covering the dark golden skin. Around her long neck were a neckband made of red stones made to look like blood pouring out from a cut throat, the light catching in the rubies. To Sol it was all too familiar a sight, far too close to what a real cut to the throat looked like. 

With a quirked brow Sol replied. “Still stuck in my shadow?” 

Both of them regarded each other. Then Moré pressed her lips against Sols in a soft kiss, smile tugging at her corners. “It’s been far too long.”

“I see you’ve become first consort,” Sol commented, noting the lavishness of Moré’s attire. Lady Red wouldn’t have let her come unless she was at least third or second consort, and something told her that she wasn’t that low in the ranking. Moré had always been ambitious, she was made for this. 

“Of course, it’s only natural that I fill up the position you left.” Moré was a beautiful woman with a clever and composed nature that made her attractive to most. She’d always been more forgiving too. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be wicked or conniving, no she was an expert in that too. “Mother still favours you that hasn’t changed.”

There was both venom and pity in her tone. To be favoured by Lady Red was both a great and terrible thing. A thing most wanted and fought for. There was nothing better than to be the favourite. The position was one Sol and Moré had fought for since they had been taken in by the Red Lady.

The first years they were friends that found comfort and protection in one another. They schemed to bring down anyone in their way because being at the bottom of the pyramid was hell in itself. You were both a maid to the consorts, a student of the arts and a whore. You didn’t have much say and even less to control. You didn’t have autonomy of your own. The only way to get some sort of freedom was to climb up the ladder and tip over those already on the pedestal. 

‘Healthy competition’ was what Lady Red cultivated. Competition and loyalty to her and only her. 

Sol had suffered many elaborate punishments those first years. The punishments then began to grow further in between, but they were always elaborate and deliberate. The Red Lady had a way of finding out what punishment was the most excruciating to each individual. It was a talent. 

“And you’re still seeking that favour, that hasn’t changed either.” To outsiders the two either seemed like friends or rivals and in honest they were both. It was complicated. They had utmost respect for each other but they were also ambitious. Moré has always wanted the highest position, she wanted to become Lady Red one day to wield that power. From the beginning, Lady Red had an eye out for Sol and when they had scaled the first steps of the ladder it became clear that Sol was favoured among all of them. It didn’t make it easier. 

“Someone has to.” Moré intertwined Sol’s arm with her own and began a slow walk around the room, eyes running over the crowd as they walked. “I’ve missed you.” 

The admittance took Sol by surprise. “I thought you’d be pleased when I left.”

“I was,” Moré chuckled, the sound comfortable and easy. “You took all the drama with you.”

“That’s a lie,” Sol countered with her own chuckle. 

“It was quite a shock when you left. None of us believed that Mother would let you go and when she did...  _ More _ tried to,” Moré continued, the playfulness vanishing. Sol never thought about the consequences of her leaving, that it would create ripples. Truthfully she didn’t really care then, she just needed to get out before she drowned. That was what it felt like those last few years, drowning slowly and painfully. It was a wonder Lady Red let her go. 

“None of them got to leave. It was a dream as it always had been. You were just the exception.”

“I don’t doubt Mother became creative in punishments.” 

Moré hummed in agreement, taking a champagne glass off a tray as a servant walked by, bringing the liquid to her lips and taking a sip. “It created a lot of opportunities. Gaining Mothers favour got all the more important.”

“Opportunities,” Sol repeated knowing very well what it meant, a lot more scheming and backstabbing, fighting tooth and claw. Opportunities were always great when you knew how to wield it. 

“Seems you’ve had some opportunities yourself,” Moré glanced at Kylo, bringing attention to the fact that he was observing them, eyes trailing over Moré and her arm looped around Sols. She could feel the curiousness in his gaze and the suspicion, unsure whether to deem Moré a threat or not. Moré flashed him a grin. “I didn’t expect you to marry, let alone into the Order. Well done, Sister.”

“It was either that or death.”

“Isn’t it always,” Moré noted, green eyes turning back to her old friend. 

“Mother must be devastated knowing she lost a valuable piece, a princess at that,” Sol continued, a smile on her own lips. Moré’s smile grew wickedly, feeling delighted at the fact that Mother didn’t realise the pawn she once had, and still, Moré also recognized the value of holding one such pawn. 

“She doesn’t think you entirely lost, Sol. I’m sure she’s concocting a plan as we speak.”

“As do you. You’re no fool.” 

“No, I’m no fool,” Moré agreed before elaborating. “I am, however, more inclined to step back and observe. We’re friends, you and I,  _ yes _ ? You have your ambitions and I have mine, I’m sure somewhere in the future we’ll be able to help each other out.” 

They smiled at each other, eyes gleaming in conspiracy. Where Sol was much more direct in action, Moré was patient, waiting. It was a dynamic that had made them clash on more occasions than one but also worked well together. As long as Sol stayed on her lane to become Queen of Ori, a powerful ally, and Moré continued on her path with the Red Lady, there was no reason for them to be enemies. 

“I must return to my client and you your husband,” Moré concluded, gripping Sol in both hands. “It was good seeing you.” 

“You too,” Sol replied and was once again surprised by the softness of Moré’s lips. 

“Who was that?” Kylo questioned upon the return of the room, mask hissing as it was removed and placed on a table. His hand ran through his hair a few times, ruffing it up to let the curls tickle his skin. His dark eyes followed Sol while she removed all the jewellery, placing them carefully by the vanity, hair freed to run like liquid moonlight down her back only covered with a thin robe. 

“An old friend,” Sol answered. Kylo waited for her to elaborate, sitting by the foot of the bed, spreading his long legs out and far apart while he leaned back on his arms. It was the position of someone comfortable if not arrogant. Sol enjoyed the sight. 

“We entered the Red Lady’s palace around the same time and quickly became friends, finding more security in numbers. I wasn’t very easy to get along with, I was wild and reckless, and received a lot of punishments in the beginning. I was a very easy target only made more important by Lady Red’s obvious favour towards me. 

“Eventually we began climbing the ranks, scheming and plotting because that was the only way you could really fight. For a time we were more than just friends,” Sol told and turned to face Kylo. He had been silently observing her as she told her tale. 

“Who betrayed the other first?” 

“I did,” Her voice didn’t tremble, nor was it light and airy. It was heavy with the acknowledgement of it. “I saw an opportunity to rise and I took it. She would have done the same.”

“Would she?” Kylo prodded. 

Sol couldn’t really answer. As ambitious as Moré was, she was also very loyal to her friends, forgiving. It’d been the first fracture in their relationship only made more prominent as Sol gained more favour by Lady Red and Moré more ambitious to want that favour. ‘Healthy competition’... “It was never the same after that, though we worked together, we both also fought for Mothers love. That was what we wanted, -to be loved by Lady Red, to be her protege.”

“Then you left.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t definitively tell him  _ why _ she left because she wasn’t sure herself. It had gotten easy, comfortable, to be there, to want Lady Red’s love. She  _ wanted _ it, wanted to be the favourite, to be a powerful vixen that’d eventually take up the mantle of Lady Red. Perhaps that was why she had to get out. Because being there was easy, losing her past and forgetting her family was easy and she couldn’t do that. 

“Do you still love her?” Sol narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, realising how much she had really revealed. The hope was that he’d open up to her as well but so far, Sol had been the only one to truly reveal anything. It was a gamble that she had to take. If she didn’t open up to him, he’d never open up to her and she needed him to. He had to become comfortable around her, relay on her. 

“Love? Hmm…” She mused in thought, lips pursed. “I don’t know if it was ever love but rather affection and that, I still have some of towards her.” The corner of her lips curled and a flicker of mischievousness sparked in her eyes. “I do miss her in bed though. She was wonderfully skilled with her tongue.” 

Now, it was Kylo’s turn to narrow his eyes at her. It was obvious that it was a trap. “Oh?” He crooked a brow at her, eyes fire threatening to consume her, the look only adding to the smirk on her lips. Kylo leaned forward, dark waves falling in front of his face, serving only to make the whole position predatory. He got up, stalking towards her on certain steps, sending a thrill through her. His shadow fell over her, concealing her from the light, his body towering and huge. 

Kylo’s one hand came to rest behind her on the edge of the vanity while the other sneaked around her jaw, turning her face towards his face, calloused thumb brushing over her lips. 

Sol let out a breath that mixed with his, her lips parting as they seek his only to find his grip on her holding her back, revenge for what she had done to him earlier. The edge of the vanity dug into her spine. The robe hitched higher on her thighs. 

Kylo got to his knees, eyes smouldering. “Perhaps I should go to her.” His hand wrapped around her knee, pushing them apart with little resistance, then began to ride up her thighs in slow progression. “She could show me just how ‘wonderfully skilled’ she is.” 

“You could,” Sol mused. “Though I am the only one who can judge you.” 

“I’m sure there’s a way around that,” Kylo answered, brushing his lips on the soft skin of her inner thigh making her eyes flutter. He was so close he could smell her, sweet and slick and needy. 

“There is,” Sol agreed, hand brushing the hair out of his face and tangling within the locks. “But I’d much rather be the one. I want you.”

Kylo connected his lips with her lower ones, a moan drawn from the both of them as his tongue swirled around in her slick. His pace was slow and deliberate, tongue seeking to make her mewl for him. Her eyes fluttered shut, head tipping back at the feeling. Kylo cast her legs over his shoulders and held her hips down with his hands. She tasted sweet, he thought, just as he imagined. He sucked on her bud, twirling his tongue around it and then flatten it against it, over and over again until Sol’s nails dug into the wood of the bench she was seated on. A shaky breath escaped her. His hair tickled against her skin, the sensation almost as maddening as the one he drew from her with the brushes of his tongue. “Fuck, Kylo!” 

Shallowly his finger dived into her, -not early enough, but enough to make the wind leave her lungs in quick succession as it was drawn in again. His finger took a dive again, this time the stroke longer and deeper. Her hips jutted up, trying to get more feeling. He was trying to drive her mad, she knew that, and yet when it came to pleasure with someone she was attracted to, the carnal need was far bigger than her logic. She was a slave to her own desire. 

His tongue skimmed along her clit making her shudder. Each thrust of his finger making her lower stomach clench. She needed more. 

“Listen to you,” Kylo mused, pink lips covered in glossy slick, finger slowly being drawn in again, curling to find the spot that made her see stars. Sol moaned, a long and breathy sound, brows lifted and eyes closed. “Mewling. So needy. I doubt it’s the sound you make when you attended all those other people.”

He was right. With them, it was all an act, a part of what they paid for. Only the fewest actually managed to draw any genuine emotion from her. Sol reached for him and drew his face to hers, lips crashing and tongues dancing. She tasted herself.

Another finger was added to her, thumb drawing slow circles around her clit, each thrust of his hands making her clench around him. His lips found their way to her nipples, sucking and rolling it. The third finger was added and Sol almost lost it, feeling so full and yet not full enough. She wanted him in her, to feel his length press in and out of her, stretching her out to full capacity, hot and burning. Then, his fingers withdrew.

Kylo wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up with ease, walking to the bed where she was thrown down into its soft embrace, the knot holding the robe together opening. He stood there for a moment, drinking her in. Her hair was in a halo around her head, silver and beautiful. Her lips red and glossy from her own slick, breasts on full display, nipples perked and begging for more attention. And then there was her pussy, wet and ready. He quickly rid himself of his jacket and undershirt, throwing his pants off and climbed on top of her, cock hard and erect. 

Their lips connected again. Sol lifted her hips to meet his, brushing herself over his cock in pure need. Her hand brushed down his chest and found purchase around his cock, giving it a few strokes and a squeeze, enough to make his whole body vibrate. Then she lined him up with her entrance and let him push inside. Kylo moaned against her neck, giving her a few shallow pumps before deciding on a rhythm.

His thrust was hard and deliberate, the slap of skin against skin filling the air and playing along with the chorus of moans. Sol buried her hand in his hair, tugging at it enough to twist his head along with it. With his neck exposed Sol latched onto him, tongue licking the expanse before her teeth nibbled at it, the taste of salt sticking to her tongue. Kylo groaned, an invisible force grabbed her wrist and pried her hand from his hair, forcing it to the mattress. His hips snapped, her whole body moving with with his rhythm of it. 

“Using the force, that isn’t fair!” Sol cried out with a chuckle. 

“Then, -ah, then use it to stop me,” Kylo challenged. 

Sol didn’t need the force, she only needed to surprise him. One leg snuck around his, hands gripping his shoulders and then with a flick of her hips Kylo was pinned beneath her. With a grin she straddled him, moving her hips in a new pace that was quicker, and every once in a while twisting and turning, making Kylo’s brows inch together. Her nails raked down his chest, drawing long lines of red into his milky skin. The moles were like dark stars upon a white sky. 

The tension was building up in her, she could feel it. The new position made him go deeper, fill her up better. Kylo’s hands guided her hips and every once in a while left to brush over her breasts that bounced deliciously as she moved. 

Sol rocked up and down his cock, thighs strong but straining at the endurance, his hands brushing over the muscle and then back up to her hips. 

She was hauntingly beautiful, he thought, as she rode him, with her pale hair falling over her shoulders, soft as silk, and eyes drowned in desire, passion parting her lips and bringing the melody of sounds from her throat. She took him so well, like she was made for it. He knew she didn’t take others half as well, he just knew it. 

Perspiration had begun to run down her spine, gathering on his forehead, trickling along the lines of their necks. She felt him shift beneath her, bend his knees, and then he was thrusting  _ up _ into her as she was coming  _ down _ . “Fuck Kylo.”

In one quick move, Kylo sat up, arm wrapped around her waist. Sol paused, eyes widening, trying to read him. They breathe each other in. What was this? This wasn’t just pure fucking… Slowly she began to move again, every stroke deliberate while their attention to the other was unmoving. 

“I’m coming,” Sol breathed, connecting her lips with his, clenching around him, almost unbearingly, as she rode out her ecstasy, every fibre in her body tingling. Kylo kissed down her jaw to her shoulder where he bit into her skin as he snapped her hips to his, seeking his own orgasm. It followed not long after. He came with a groan, filling her up with his seed. 

They sat there unmoving for a while, then separated with a sigh. Kylo spread out on the bed, drawing the covers over him, while Sol went and cleaned herself off, feeling his seed run down her thigh. It was such a lewd thing but she found that she did not mind it. Not now. 

“I have to be honest,” Sol said from the washroom, using a wet cloth to wash off. “I didn’t think you’d be this well versed in sex. I thought the Jedi practised celibacy.”

“I’m not Jedi.”

“No, but I still thought you were celibate.” She hadn’t really thought about him being with other women or men. It somehow always came across as celibacy. He could have had someone but the thought never crossed her mind. 

“I wasn’t celibate. There just haven’t been time or interest.” Sol smiled at her mirror image. So she could be his first. Regardless, this only served her. He wasn’t likely to bed anyone else, he could, but wasn’t likely to. 

Sol joined Kylo under the covers, both of them looking up into the detailed ceiling, painted all colours. It was such a difference to the grey hues of the ship. Still, it was nothing against Ori. Silence engulfed them as they laid there together. The light dimmed. 

“I’ve been betrayed before,” Kylo voiced into the silence. Sol turned her face to him, watching his silhouette, the tension held in his mouth, the restraint almost palpable. She didn’t say anything. “Don’t betray me.” 

It was an order as much as a plea. Kylo turned away from her and let out his breath, folding the pillow to his liking. Sol watched his shoulder rise and fall as he fell asleep. She wasn’t sure what she should have answered if she could answer. She didn’t even know what to make of it. 

Sol turned the other way, her back to him and closed her eyes.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been long since I've written, well, I've had the last 3 chapters in draft since I went on hiatus. I will begin updating again and perhaps faster with the chapters already written, from then on I don't know how much time I'll have since I've got a new job that takes me out to sea for 2 weeks at a time, but that also means I will be home 2 weeks after that. 
> 
> I will do what I can to update but it might take longer between, regardless, this story WILL be finished, I'm not giving up on it.


	18. Rules set in Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol and Hux eat breakfast together. Sol is called in for a meeting with the Supreme Leader himself.

Sol left Kylo sleeping in bed and walked into the common area shared with Hux. There were a long table seating at least 22 people, with one end filled with various of breakfast foods, the delicious scent of it hitting her the moment she entered. The scent, however, couldn’t alleviate the feeling of irritation upon the sight of Hux sitting at the end, a smoking cup of Corellian coffee in his one hand, while the other was occupied by a datapad that held his attention. He was as pristine as always, while Sol looked a morning mess, not bothering to dress up. Her hair was thrown in a messy bun, strands of silver escaping the confines and making her look crazed. All she wore was a long robe held together at her waist and a nightgown beneath. 

She approached Hux that glanced up from his datapad momentarily before continuing to give it all his attention. It was half entertaining to watch him strain his eyes to keep them from wandering. 

Sol sat down beside him at the plates put out. “Good morning, General.” 

“Hmm… Good morning,” he muttered. Sol filled her plate with fruits, the sweets of it mouthwatering. It couldn’t help but be noticed the deepening frown on Hux’s face. Something was clearly bothering him but Sol didn’t want to poke at it just yet, she’d wait and see what happens. 

With an exasperated sigh, Hux put away the datapad and set the coffee on the table, leaning back in his seat as his attention came to lie on her. “Why did you do it?”

Frowning in confusion Sol looked at him. What did she do now? She fucked her husband, that couldn’t possibly be what he was angry about. “What did I do?”

“Don’t feign innocence, I know it was you.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Hux scoffed in disbelief. “Well, it was reported to me that Holand Dane had inexplicably fallen to his death from the 77th balcony.”

Sol became surprised at the news. “And you think I did it.”

“You knew him, you’d been his  _ whore _ ,” Hux spat the word, disdain clear in his voice but also prominently bitter. “Didn’t the two of you have a falling out at the party?”

“We separated before it became serious,” Sol countered indignantly. “We may have exchanged words but that was it.”

“Really? Why is he dead then?”

“Perhaps he saw the error of his ways and committed suicide,” Sol laid out.

“Or perhaps, you decided you could cross off another name off your little list,” Hux belittled. Sol was taken aback for a second, wondering how and why he knew of her death list, when she decided that Kylo must have told him. Regardless of that, Dane had never been on the list, he may have been disgusting and horrible, but he was just a small bug to be squashed against the others. He did deserve what he got, but it wasn’t her that put out justice. 

“I didn’t do it,” Sol stated firmly. “It's not really a big loss.”

Hux narrowed his eyes at her. “Dane had multiple mines throughout the galaxy, mines  _ we _ need.”

“The mines go to his widow, it’s in their marriage contract as well as his testament since they were  _ her _ mines at birth,” Sol countered. “You’ll find that Mrs. Dane is much more agreeable than her husband.”

Hux looked like he had eaten something sour. “Mrs. Dane doesn’t have the connections her husband did.”

“I’m sure we will do without.” 

“What do you know about it?”

“There’s a lot of secrets men let slip when they’re satisfied and content.” She was glaring at him mockingly. Whores sometimes knew more of men than their wives did. 

“And how many men have you satisfied again?” Hux spat at her, brewing with discontent and vaguely covered embarrassment. Embarrassment was a grand weapon against the proud. 

Sol crooked her head to the side, the shoulder of the robe slipping from its place down her arm, revealing the soft skin drawn taut over her clavicle. Hux’ eyes wandered. “Why are you so concerned about my sex life?”

Hux shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting to his coffee as he brought it to his lips. She was sure that if she continued to poke at him, he’d turn just as red as his hair. “Is it because you wish it had been you I’d have married?” His jaw clenched and Sol smirked. She hit the nail on the head. He wanted her and because of that, he _disdained_ _her_ with every fibre of his being.

“I’m sorry to say this but you wouldn’t have survived the wedding ceremony,” Sol quipped, biting into a piece of bright yellow fruit, its juices sweet and sour. Hux’ mood darkened further. 

“Such an uncivilized tradition that belongs in the past,” he bit at her, placing the now empty cup on the table. “You’ll find that not everyone will fall for your... _ charms _ or what’s between your legs.” 

“So you don’t want me?” Sol questioned, resting her head on her hand, eyes blinking at him in mockery. 

Hux couldn’t answer directly, he had been revealed, but that didn’t mean he’d play right into her hands. “What I want is of no concern of yours.” His eyes flickered behind her. Heavy footfalls sounded. 

Kylo came in with his usual clothes, in mask and all, cape fluttering behind him. Hux straightened, jaw clenched with tension and withheld words. Sol smiled sweetly at him as he got up, taking the datapad in his hand and nodded a curt greeting to the commander before walking away. “We’ll leave in two hours.” 

Kylo glared after the redhead, then looked towards Sol in curiosity. He came to sit in front of her by the third plate put out, empty and ready to be filled. Sol broke a piece of bread into bite-size pieces, the entertained smile never leaving her lips. 

“What are you grinning about?” Kylo questioned through the visor, voice modified but recognizable.

“Oh, nothing, just a lovely conversation with the General.” Her brow arched up as she looked at him, the fact that he was sitting at a brilliantly filled table with food from all over the galaxy with nothing on his plate, the helmet still over his face and his clothes not exactly screaming breakfast, hilarious to her. He looked grotesque sitting there. 

“So, are you gonna remove that bucket on your head or are you just gonna watch me eat, because if so I’d prefer not to have an audience while eating.” Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew the glint of entertainment was there. Kylo made no motion to remove his helmet. 

Sol knew the answer to Hux’ question the moment she had seen him.

* * *

Sol didn’t know what to make of it. Being called for a meeting with the Supreme Leader. A churning turned and twisted in her gut, heart beating heavily in her chest as she made her way towards the holo room. She had dressed accordingly, in an outfit that matched Kylo, hoping that it gave a visual unity just as she wanted it to. 

It was one thing to be called to join Kylo in a meeting, another thing entirely to be called upon alone. 

Sol entered the room and immediately felt the heavy atmosphere weigh down on her shoulders like she was far beneath the waves of Ori and the water was pressing in. The memories of the last time she was in this room surfaced, sending a shiver down her back and fear coursing through her body. She could almost feel the shackles around her wrists and taste the blood in her mouth. She couldn’t say she liked this room very much, not only was it dark and unnerving, the air thick and almost palpable with threat, but it also reminded her of being locked in a tiny dark room, stripped of everything, afraid and utterly alone. 

She wouldn’t show it, though. Swallowing her fear, Sol came up on the platform and squared her shoulders and turned her spine into iron. 

The Supreme Leader Snoke was sitting in a massive chair, beady eyes meters above Sol’s head as the hologram flickered on. Again she had to wonder if he had an inferiority complex to make his hologram so massive or if it was out of pure domination, to frighten whoever he was meeting with. Both options seemed plausible. 

“Supreme Leader.” Sol bowed her head.

“Lady Ren, arise,” Snoke’s raspy voice greeted, the sound like tearing paper or breaking glass. Sol rose up, head craning backwards to face Snoke. 

“I suppose you’ve had thoughts of why I’ve summoned you.”

“I’ve made a few guesses.” Snoke's eyes ran over her, a gnarled finger brushing against his jaw as he waited patiently for Sol to continue. “You want to reassess me, to see what has become of me since the last time you saw me.” In chains, bleeding and bruised.  _ How far I’ve come. _

“And you want to see what Kylo has made of me.” 

“My apprentice has had quite a challenge with you,” He agreed, eyes unnervingly piercing. The Supreme Leader had a way to command the purest form of dread. Sol could feel ghostly fingers run down her spine. Spite was all that kept her from looking away. “And you will challenge him still.  _ Those who do not bend, break _ .”

“They say adversity makes you strong.”

“And you’ve had a lot of adversity, haven't you?” His eyes gleamed. “Your blood is filled with it.” 

“My blood,” Sol mused, the wording catching her attention. “Another thing you wish to speak with me about. Obviously you’ve thought about the future. It’s not the throne of Ori you want, you could take it through Vox, and it’s certainly not force abilities that keeps me alive, there are a lot more powerful beings than me, so it’s something to do with something I can pass on.”

“You want a child. My child with Kylo,” Sol finished. 

“Good, you’re not as oblivious as one might think.” Sol wasn’t sure whether to feel offended or not. Clearly he didn’t hold her in high regard that way. 

“It’s not just the bond between Kylo and You that could enhance his powers. You feel it, don't you?” Sol didn’t answer, she just pressed her lips together firmly, jaw clenched. Bond? Perhaps, but it wasn’t as strong as Snoke might want. She was using him, nothing more… “In your presence, Kylo might… find more control over his emotions, an anchor if you will. With a child that would only make it stronger. A child, Your child, would become most powerful.”

It had been his plan from the beginning. Her throne and royal blood was only a bonus. He wanted a child he could shape and mould, much like she suspected he had done with Kylo, except with Kylo he would have had been influenced by the light through Jedi training. With a new child and no Jedi, there’d be nothing to sway the kid. 

“I have conditions,” Sol challenged earning a quirk of an eyebrow and a sharp look.

“Oh, and what conditions are that?”

“I want Ori. I want my rightful place on the throne. Ori will be an ally to The Order but it will be separate in everything else,” Sol began and lifted her head with confidence. “I will be the true Queen, _ the only _ ruler. Kylo will get the title of King Consort, he will have no political or military power and will not inherit the throne upon my death and  _ neither will my child unless I make it so _ .”

A bitter taste lingered in her mouth recognizing she was bantering her child for a crown. If she didn’t secure her position as a Queen of Ori in her own right, with no possibility of losing it again upon the birth of a child, then it would have all been for nothing. The only way of securing herself was to sell her child. Without this deal Snoke would be able to make her queen and then get rid of her as soon as she had a child, making the child and Kylo regent. She wouldn’t make it easy for him to kill her. 

“As soon as I’m securely put upon the throne I will give  _ you _ a child.”

“You are asking for much,” Snoke commented, not entirely dissatisfied but certainly not pleased either. Was that a glimpse of entertainment in his eyes, as if he were watching a puppet show. She didn’t like it and she didn’t like him. “What makes you think you’re worth that much.”

“Maybe I’m not worth that much but my child is, otherwise I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Very well. You will be Queen Regent of Ori, separate from The First Order and in full right to elect the next ruler.”

“Then we’re in agreement.”

“You will have your throne when Skywalker is found and disposed of,” Snoke said putting forth his own condition with a sickening smirk on his thin, shrivelled lips. Sol gave a curt nod in agreement, then bowed slightly as she was sent away with a wave of his hand. 

“ _ Sol _ ,” Snoke stopped her in her tracks, she glanced behind her. “ _ Do not test me _ .”

Sol swallowed and continued out into the hall, feeling the weight be lifted from her shoulders as she stepped into the lighted hall, the sudden brightness hurting for a moment. 

Out in the hall, she was met with an overwhelming number of people. It wasn’t so much as the number of people but rather who they were. Kylo stood waiting, mask quickly turning to her as she came out, while General Hux stood by the side, eyes locked on a datapad as he quietly spoke, or more like sneered, at the poor officer by him that scurried away when Hux walked into a meeting with the Supreme Leader. 

“Are you waiting for me?” Sol asked. 

“I have a meeting with the Supreme Leader,” Kylo answered, stepping up to her. She flashed him a smile. “What did he want?”

Sol knew he was both curious and anxious to know. “He wanted to see how far I’ve come and make sure I knew exactly where my priorities should be. What is the meeting about?”

“What progress we’ve made to find Skywalker or lack thereof.” The admittance of the lack of progress annoyed him. He was anxious, unsure of how his Supreme Leader would react. 

“We will find him,” Sol confronted, placing a hand on his chest by his heart, flashing him a bigger smile. They’d find him, rather sooner than later, and now Sol announced her participants in the race to find him. 

Beneath his mask, Kylo smiled, but couldn’t help but be unsure why he found ease in her words, or more importantly in her presence. He left her in the hall, joining Hux in the meeting. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I begin my new job tomorrow and will be out sailing for about 3 weeks. I will try and find some time to write and will try and update, but my job comes first. When I get back home again I'll continue writing. 
> 
> Also, I really need you to comment about what you think of the story, of the characters, plotline, writing style. I'm feeling self-conscious. Is there any moment you went 'this is such a good sentence' - 'this is such a good twist/character/chapter'.  
> It will really help my confidence as a writer. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapters, because I promise you, they're some big juicy ones. We've reached Act II. Things will begin to pick up the pace.


	19. I told Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol is send on a mission that goes tits up. There’s torture, blood and a cameo.

The small ship was made for two squads of Stormtroopers to sit by the walls and an additional squad standing in the middle as well as a small cabin for any officers that may be on the voyage. When one squad of troopers stood in the middle and the rest of the space was clear of the two squads that could travel with them the space still seemed too small. Even with the capacity for more, the mere appearance of one was enough to make the small ship cramped.

The pilots were already in the pilot cabin, readying the ship for take-off when Sol’s squad marched in with two single file lines following behind the Leader who stood out with the dark grey shoulder guard. Sol was sitting by the entrance to the pilot cabin when they came in. 

“Squad K-10 ready for the mission,” the squad leader announced to Sol who glanced over the two lines of white armour, armed with blasters. They were well trained, she could tell by the preciseness of them, not a single thing out of line, but training wasn’t all. Even without being able to see their faces, Sol sensed that they were inexperienced. It was possible this was their first mission. 

Sol got up from her seated position, walking over to the squad leader, the weight of her blasters in a garner on her thighs, her boots padding against the metal floor, each step heavy but not so much as Kylo’s. 

“Is this your first mission?” Sol asked the squad leader.

“Yes.”

“Well then, you’re in for a treat,” Sol announced, looking over each of them to none of them were different. She got the reason they wore masks, but by the stars did it annoy her never to see anyone's faces. There was something so… impersonal, demeaning in talking to a blank mask. 

“The mission goes to a small planet a few light years from here. It’s not expected that there’d be a lot of hostiles, the mission is a simple recon with a gathering of information from a source, _ still, be sharp _ .” Sol glanced back at the Squad Leader, unsure if there was any more to say. Addressing troops was something she’d been specially trained in, being royal, but she supposed that the skill had become rusty over the years where they’d gone unused. How could you ever inspire loyalty when you can’t look them directly in the eye. 

Sol knew Hux had sent the greenest of green for the sole purpose of annoying her and pissing Kylo off, while still being able to use the guise of ‘arming her with enough protection’. Apparently, this squad drew the short straw. She could practically feel the uncertainty in them, whether she was someone to follow, someone to lead them. Despite his explosive temper Kylo had proved himself in battle over and over, he was someone who could lead, and if he was not there, then, there was a general, a captain, a lieutenant. Sol was unproven in leadership and she didn’t possess any of those titles, instead, the title of Lady hung on her shoulders, along with whore. And who would follow a whore into battle?

Only people who were ordered to protect said whore. 

“I think that is all,” Sol finished and took a seat along the walls of the ship. The squad remained standing and Sol shifted her eyes to the Leader. “You can sit down, we’ll be there in a few hours.”

The leader nodded shortly at his squad, that hesitated for a moment before finding a seat, stiff in their movements and eyes constantly shifting towards Sol, unsure of her and what she’d do if she caught them in anything she didn’t like. In all honesty, Sol couldn’t care less if they relaxed or even danced around naked as long as they were ready when they landed. Everything in between didn’t matter. 

But that was to her. If the general saw them now, he’d bark commands and curses. That was why they were nervous. It was also the reason they took seat only when there was at least two empty seats between them as if she’d kick them out of orbit if they got too close.

“What are your names?”

“Lady Ren?” The squad leader uttered.

“I’d prefer if you call me Sol or at the very least Lady Sol,” She said, leaning back in the uncomfortable seat. This ship was definitely not made for comfort. “You have names right?”

“Uh, NH-580,” the squad leader said, looking down the line of his men at his side and opposite him. BB-9038 said the next followed by QV-7322, CK-7777, FN-2187, KL-1070 and so the letters and numbers continued. 

_ “Stop, stop, stop _ ,” Sol said, waving her hands before her trying to cut off the long lines of  _ not _ names. “Don’t you have  _ name _ names?”

“These are our names.” No, these are the numbers they gave you. She didn’t say it though she wanted to. Names were important and she immediately understood the severity of The First Order. They took their names and gave them numbers, that way when the cannon fodder dies, they can be easily replaced and no one would be impacted by the loss. 

“I’m not calling you any of that because I won’t remember. What do you call each other?”

“....I’m Sevens,” One trooper said. Most of them went by their given ‘names’ but there were those who earned a nickname like Q, Bees,Sevens and of course Squad Leader. The longer the squad would be together the more nicknames would come. As much as the Order conditions their soldiers and programs them, there’d always be a sliver of humanity in them. 

Sol let them rest the rest of the way and instead listened to the hushed conversation that slowly began to build the longer they realised she didn’t have a stick up her butt. At least this time they weren’t calling her a whore directly to her face, but the rumors surrounding her were given visible significance by the second chair between her and everyone else. 

“We are 5 minutes out from entering the atmosphere of Phothos,” the pilot said over the audiosystem. Sol got up at stretched her legs, shaking them trying to get the feeling back in her ass from sitting for two hours. The ship bounced slightly entering the atmosphere. 

The stormtroopers began to ready themselves as well, checking their armour and gear, waking up their friends that had fallen asleep and stretching their stiff limbs. 

The ship lurched to the side casting everyone off their feet, sending troopers colliding with each other before hitting the wall. Sol had fallen to her knees, undoubtedly bruised, hands stretched out over the floor in an attempt not to slide anywhere. The tail of her ponytail hit her in the face. 

There was an awful screeching sound of metal, the lights above them sputtering on and off, sparks flying from control boards and alarms blaring in the background. Sol got to her feet and grabbed a hold of the harness meant to buckle around you when seated. It was there a blast sounded and for a moment gravity didn’t work and everyone hovered in the air, only to be slammed to the floor when the ship took a turn upwards. They were being thrown around like a ragdoll played with by an excited toddler. 

“This is The First Order ship XO-KM-19, we’ve been attacked and are going down fast! Mayday, send reinforcements!” The pilot yelled from the cabin, his voice barely loud enough to be heard. He continued to repeat the message over and over. 

“Hurry!” Sol yelled, throwing herself in the seat and began the battle with the buckle. How she even managed to get to the seat was debatable, perhaps luck. The air was sucked out of the cabin when the tail end of the ship tore off, blue skies and bright light pouring into the ship. Stormtroopers were screaming, they had to, but she wasn’t certain with the roaring wind in her hears. She couldn’t breathe and she pressed her eyes shut, biting back the tears of shock and adrenaline. 

Was this how she was gonna die? All of this only to be shot down and crash. 

Her head collided with the back of the seat, pain snapping through her head, the strong binds around her shoulders holding her in her seat just barely, while she continued to fight with the buckle. Something hit her. 

Gravity slammed them to the ground, trees and bushes tearing at the ship before it began to roll, tossing them around in a vicious pace, the outer metal scraping over the ground, rocks and roots tearing the metal panels off. 

Sol’s ears were ringing and she was bleeding from somewhere, it was running down into her eyes, and she couldn’t breathe, something was digging into her body, holding her up. With great effort she cracked her eyes open, blinking the tears and brightness away. Everything hurt so much. 

Somehow she had managed to close the buckle but now it was almost impossible to get open, especially with her weak, shaky hands. Sol ended up violently pulling with all her strength, the buckle snapped open and released her halfway, one arm caught in its strong tether. She ground her teeth at the pull on her shoulder, feet scraping over the angled floor, soles finding no purchase. She ended up letting go of the harness and slid to the other side, almost but not quite able to walk on the wall. 

This was where she got a good look at the scene before her. There were stormtroopers hanging from the harnesses of their seats, unconscious or dead, while others laid thrown all over the half-floor half walls. The tail of the ship was completely torn off, laying a few meters from the front crash, smoke rising from the wreckage. 

“Pilotes,” She thought aloud, making sure that it was the right thought to have. Getting to the cabin was hard on the uneven floor but she managed and was met with the sight of one pilot completely missing while the other had been impaled by a tree, blood pouring over the white armour, something she’d see a lot more of. 

Dead, they’re dead…  _ Great _ .

She stumbled back and noticed a pain in her leg. Something had ripped through her pants and flesh as if they were one and the same and she had definitely twisted some ligaments, but at the moment the pain wasn’t that big, adrenalin dulling the experience. 

Instead of working on herself she began waking the Stormtroopers, some of which were already working at getting others down and checking who was dead or alive. 

“O-Over here! Someone!” A choked voice yelled, bringing Sol to her feet and leaving the dead stormtrooper alone. It took her a moment to realise why the stormtrooper had yelled but then her eyes focused on the one on the ground. He had lost his chest armour and some of his leg armour. His chest rose and fell in quick sobs, hands pressing against the blood pooling on his stomach. 

Her stomach turned and for a moment Sol considered to just leave but instead she fell to her knees beside the stormtrooper that had called her over, who was pressing down on his leg that was broken in more places than one, part of his thigh muscle hanging loose and blood pouring out of the wound.

“Okay, okay, okay, um,” she repeated, trying to conjure her medical lessons. She pressed her hand against the wound on his stomach and found that it was suddenly in his stomach among his guts.  _ Don’t puke, don’t puke, do not puke in this man’s open wound _ , she told herself. 

“Lady Sol!” Squad Leader yelled, coming up to her followed by a small amount of troopers, one of which immediately turned around bend over to throw up, only to scramble the helmet off. “T-the pilots-,”

“Are dead, yes,” Sol cut in, blowing at an annoying strand of hair that kept falling in front of her eyes. “I need you to see if the pilot's message went through and if there’s a rescue coming.” The squad leader nodded and marched into the wreckage. 

“You, other one, I need you to start counting our dead and moving the hurt out here. Make those with minor or no injuries help you. And you! Puker! I need you to go look for a medical bag, anything medical, alright?”

They glanced at each other but started awake when she barked at them once more, in which they quickly began their task. Puker was a woman, she saw. 

“A-am I hurt bad? Is it bad?” The wounded stormtrooper rasped out, lifting his head in an attempt to get a look of himself. He couldn't. “It’s bad, I know it’s bad. Oh, stars, its bad, I’m gonna die..”

“Hey! Look at me, okay,” Sol commanded. “What’s your name?”

“JX-9-,”

“No, a real name.”

“I-I don’t have one,” He got out, breaths raspy and rugged. Sol took a moment to relieve him of his helmet, revealing a young olive-skinned man with green eyes and dark haircut ultimately short. His eyes were filled with panic, the corners of his lips in a perpetual downward turn. Sol couldn’t imagine dying without a name. Those without names were to be lost, forgotten easily in time. 

He lifted his head once more to try and get a look of himself but Sol stopped him with her voice. “Do you want one?”

“Yes.”

“How about,” She looked around for the girl she sent scavenging for medical supplies. She appeared, tumbled over a cord hanging out from the wall and then scrambled to her feet, this time undisturbed over to Sol with the supplies. “Jax?”

Sol eyed the medical supplies as the girl showed them to her, head shaking when it wasn’t something she could use right now. “Jax. How do you like that?”

Their eyes connected again, this time his panic lessened a little. He nodded, tears mixing with sweat. It was warm on this planet but it wasn’t the reason he was sweating. Sol’s eyes connected with the Squad Leader as he climbed out the ship, the tension in his shoulders enough to tell her it was bad news. 

“I-is help coming?” Jax asked his leader. 

“The emergency signal went out but I don’t know if they received it and there’s no way we’ll get the radio working again. We have an emergency beacon, but it’ll need somewhere high to be able to send out a distress call. Other than we have small trackers, nothing more.” 

Okay, so it was possible the call had been received but if it hadn’t they’d have to climb a mountain or something and they couldn’t stay here, whoever shot them down would be coming for them, the longer they stay the more dangerous it gets. They had to leave. 

“You can fix me, right?” Jax asked, looking around for an answer. 

“I can give you something for the pain, okay?” Sol replied, nodding towards the small case of syringes. 

“But you  _ can _ fix me?”

“Yes, of course,” Sol lied, taking out a syringe and bit off the cap, spitting it out somewhere else. Her eyes connected with the squad leaders. They both knew what had to be done, a silent understanding. Jax’ bowl had been perforated, his guts hanging out of him and his leg was torn to pieces. “You just relax, help will arrive soon.”

Sol pressed the content of the syringe into his arm, a hazy look quickly clouding his blank eyes. She gave him a second shot, though his pain was already gone. It’d take him off quicker. 

“Do you think I’ll ever see home again?” Jax asked, his question surprising Sol. 

“I’m sure you will,” Sol comforted. 

“I would like to… I don’t really remember it…” Jax fell to sleep, one he’d never awaken from. Sol released the pressure of his wound and pushed herself to her feet. This was supposed to be easy, there weren't supposed to be any hostiles, and yet here they were, shot from the sky. 

“4 dead, not including the pilots, 3 missing and 6 out of 9 survivors have sustained wounds, the biggest of which is a broken leg, broken arms, bend ribs and a dislocated shoulder. Lady R-Sol, you’re bleeding.”

“Patch them up enough for them to move out,” the squad leader said, waving the standing troopers off. He then knelt down and helped Sol bind her wound, voice hushed as he spoke. “We’re in enemy territory, they either have blaster cannons or a ship, they’ll arrive soon and we’ve better be moved out then.” 

Sol looked at the distance, catching the peak of a mountain in the distance. “We have to get to that mountain and ow!” The squad leader tied off the bandage roughly. 

“And send out a distress signal,” he finished. “It’d be quicker if we didn’t have to carry our wounded.” 

“Are you suggesting we leave them?” 

“No, not for now, but if we came to it, it’d be best to send out a group to take the beacon to the mountain.”

“If it comes to it I order you to take the beacon and leave us behind.”

“We can’t leave you behind,” he said, distressed by the notion. 

“I’m hurt,” Sol told passively, looking at the group of troopers that began to help each other on their feet, only one being lifted on a makeshift stretcher. “I’d only slow you down and we need Kylo to get here as fast as possible.” 

The mention of Kylo went unnoticed by Sol, how easily and sure she was that  _ he _ would come and not just send a battalion. The squad leader noticed, however. 

“We’d all be killed if something were to happen to you.”

“I have a bigger chance of surviving though because of the bounty on my head.” Sol looked at the leader firmly and said adamantly, “It’s an order.”

Things had fallen apart quicker than they had imagined. It wasn’t long after they had set out that they heard the hum of speeders approaching. The Squad Leader was reluctant to leave his comrades and Sol behind but he did what he had been ordered and took the unharmed with him. After that Sol and those left behind stood their ground. 

Their enemies were experienced and well trained, injured stormtroopers didn’t stand a chance. Sol watched them fall one by one until she was the only one left. She had managed to take out two of them, but their numbers were far too great and she soon found herself with a gun to her head, the back of it whipped harshly against her skull. 

Since then everything had been dark. She was tied up in the back of a speeder that was not using a road to follow she deduced by the bumpy ride. It made her clench her jaws shut, pain hitting her with every slight bump. A bag was over her head keeping her from gathering information as to where they were taking her and the pain in her head made it hard to concentrate or even keep awake. 

The speeder came to a sudden stop. With rough hands, Sol was yanked out of the speeder and onto her wobbly legs that shook beneath her as her mind took a nauseating turn. They dragged her forward, tumbling and losing footing on the uneven terrain, knees weak and ready to give in at any given moment. 

“We have to hurry,” A voice grumbled. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Don’t worry, they won't find us.”

Her body was tossed to the floor, hands scraping over the concrete as they took her fall. She laid there groaning. The bag over her head was abruptly pulled off and Sol blinked at the dim light shining from a lamp. She saw that she was in a small room, walls made of concrete, with no notion of windows. The floor was damp, smelling of earth and rot. 

“They  _ will _ find us,” Sol growled confidently. It earned her a wack across her face, blood pouring into her mouth with it’s nauseatingly salty and metallic taste. She spat, blinking to get her bearings again. 

The one that hadn’t hit her, a tall slender man with a scar running across his face, splitting his well kempt beard with a white streak that matched the one in his hair, smiled at her, hands folded across his broad chest as he leaned against the wall. 

“Will they now?” He purred entertained. 

The one that did hit her hooked a rusty hook around her bound wrists and got to his feet, walking towards the lever at the side of the room, new and unused. So this was obviously brought here just for her. He began pumping the lever back and forth, each click lifting her wrists into the air. Sol found herself on her knees, then on her feet and lastly on the pads of her feet, hands high above her head, wrists bruised and hurting. In this position it was hard to defend one self. Your arms were of no use and your feet barely on the ground. 

“Yes,” Sol answered firmly. 

“Check her again, Grey,” Scarface said, dark gleaming eyes never leaving Sol. 

“We’ve already searched her,” Grey told. 

“Again.”

Grey shrugged and adopted a wicked smirk as he began running his hands over her body, down her arms, down the sides of her body, over her chest where they stayed far too long feeling her up. He took a step forward instead of walking around her, and ran his hands down her back where he stopped at her shoulder blades, sandy eyebrow lifting. 

“What do we have here,” he mused, pulling out the small blade Sol had hidden on her back. He stuffed it in his back pocket and continued his search. Her ass got a good squeeze too. His hands ran down her legs, stopping at her boots where they fished up the blade hidden there, waving it mockingly at Sol who clenched her jaw and bit her tongue. 

Grey was about to get up when he was stopped by Scarface. “Boots too.”

Sol’s face fell even though she tried to contain the fear. Grey removed her boots and shook them until the tracker she had hidden there fell out. Squad Leader had given her it and they had agreed that it was the best way to keep it hidden by shoving it in her boots, despite how annoying it was to walk with, like a stone in the shoe. 

“Well look here, Doran,” Grey said and tossed the tracker to Doran. Doran looked it over, then looked Sol directly in the eyes as he dropped it to the floor and stepped on it with his heel, the tracker shattering under the weight. 

“You’re making a mistake,” Sol warned socks now damp and toes barely able to reach the floor, the loss of her boots taking away the few precious inches she dearly needed. Her bodyweight pulled at her shoulder joints, the position she was in making it slowly and agonisingly harder to breathe. 

“How so?” 

“Well, you shot down a First Order ship, killed First Order soldiers and  _ you kidnapped me, _ ” Sol listed out, eyes burning with rage. “But there’s still time to do the right thing.”

“‘The right thing’?” Grey snorted. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“The First Order will pay you for delivering me back,” Sol bargained, hoping against all hope that they’d bite. Of course, there would be no such luck. Maybe they were smarter than she thought. 

“Oh yea, they’ll pay us…  _ With a blaster to the face _ ,” Doran chuckled. 

“I will make sure you will be released without harm done. I can protect you.”

Grey punched her in the gut sending Sol flying through the room, the toes of her feet scraping over the concrete trying to find purchase. Everything was spinning, she was spinning, her head falling back as bile rose in her throat, burning and threatening to spill over. Tears clung to her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. A tremor went through her as she dry heaved, small black dots dancing in her vision. 

“You’ll protect us, huh,” Grey said, grabbing a fistful of hair to force her head back up again to make her look directly at him. His breath smelled, Sol thought, the strange note of it making through the dizziness. His laugh boomed. “You can’t even protect yourself. Look at you!” 

“Let me go,” Sol bit out firmly, eyes burning with disdain. 

“If we let you go,” Doran thought out loud, nodding for Grey to release her. “You will personally see to our demise,  _ Lady Princess _ . I imagine your husband's rage would kill us instantly, you, however,” he came up to her, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. Sol glared at him, biting her bottom lip to keep from spitting at his face. “You will drag it out, make it painful and slow.” 

Sol swallowed the truth, because that was what it was, the truth. She would make it slow and painful. But she was also self-preserving if she had to bite it in her to survive she would. “You’ll find that I’d do anything to survive.”

“Anything?” Grey purred from beside her, eyes gleaming with disgusting sexual attention. 

Doran’s smirk grew. “Oh, we’ve heard about your proficiency in survival and I’m impressed to be honest, but it will make no difference. Our odds are greater delivering you to The Resistance.”

Sol’s eyes widened. The Resistance? Sure, they paid more than her kill order but smuggling a person alive was very much different from a corpse. She couldn’t imagine it’d be that easy. 

“The Resistance wants me alive,” Sol told. 

Doran glanced at Grey who smiled easily. “They want you  _ alive _ , they never said _ in what  _ condition.”

Grey’s fist once again collided with her side. The crack was audible. Air wheezed out of Sol’s lungs, the pain excruciating. Tensioning her abdominal muscles to prepare for the next hit didn’t protect from any of the pain. She croaked for breath, head hanging limp on her shoulders, body seizing in the air. Grey only stopped his assault on her when Doran waved him off. 

“When we get paid by The Resistance it’ll be all over,” he cooed, brushing a tattered strand of hair out of her bloodied and sweaty face. Wickedness filled his eyes. He wasn’t going to let her live, not even with The Resistance. He was gonna kill her regardless and get paid twice over.

“Your going to kill me,” Sol croaked breathily. “You’re going to kill me after The Resistance has paid you and get paid on the kill.”

“You might be smarter than I thought,” Doran said and turned to Grey. “Make her unable to fight back, it’ll be easier to deal with her that way.”

“Kylo will come.”

“We’ve taken that into account,” Doram hummed. “We’ve made contingencies. A suspicious ship has left the planet with a decoy. He’ll follow that.”

_ No, he won't.  _

Doran left her with Grey who stepped into her line of vision, flashing a crooked toothy grin as he massaged his knuckles, rolling his neck to prepare for his next assault on her. He continued to beat her bloody and bruised. Somewhere in the middle of all of it he dug his thumb into the wound on her thigh inciting a scream from her. The scream was cut short with a blow to the face that split open her eyebrow, blood pouring into her eye, sticky and warm. She was hanging there like a piece of meat at the butchers, except she was treated worse. 

Grey left her hanging limp, the joints in her shoulders close to popping, wrists strained bloody. It was increasingly harder to breathe, not just because of all the punches to her body, but the position she was in. Her toes was strained, scrapped bloody by the many times they were dragged over the concrete. Black dots danced in and out of her vision and she was sure that she had lost consciousness multiple times throughout it all. 

A weak sob escaped her snuffed by the pain it brought. Crying wasn’t an option. Kylo was on his way, he had to, and she that to stay strong,  _ alive _ , until then. Biting her lip Sol managed to turn her body, eyes running over the room to find anything that could help. The transmitter was completely broken and there was nothing else in the room. No windows, no panels, no screws or nails, nothing but the one door and the contraption she was in. The handle stuck out of the wall, the chains going from the winch to the hoop in the ceiling, to her hands and dangling body. If only she had a few more inches she could stand on it wouldn't be so hard to breathe. 

_ The force. I have to use the force. _

It was easier said than done, she couldn’t even make a fucking ball move, how was she to magically move the lever? Her eyes closed and she breathed in, despite the pain, and out again, trying to centre herself. Breathe, focus, feel and use it to reach out. She breathed and focused but all she could feel was the pain, it almost made her cry again. Sol refused to cry, she wouldn’t give that to them, she was better than that, better than them. The flame of anger ignited in her burning through the pain in her chest. Anger turned to pure, unadulterated spite. 

Her eyes opened and she glared harder at the lever, projecting all of her burning spite onto it. It almost made her pass out, eyes becoming heavy and black dots dancing more frequently throughout her vision. 

Click, it sounded. An inch was withdrawn from the chain, adding an extra inch to her feet. She could now stand on the pads of the front of her feet. Click, an inch more was added to her, but not quite enough to stand on her heels as well. 

Sol breathed out in the little relief she had. Maybe there was hope for her yet. Those extra inches was all she needed, now she just needed Kylo to arrive. 

Kylo, she thought, strange to be so depended on him and stranger even to want to. He’d save her, she believed that. Sol tried to open up her mental shield but she wasn’t sure she was able to do it, as if using the force on the lever had been too much, and now she was unable to control it for herself. Exhaustion began to erode the adrenalin using the force had given her. She was so tired. 

“Wakey wakey, Lady princess,” Grey mused, the corners of his eyes crinkling with admiration over his work. 

Sol breathed in and clenched her jaw, suddenly wide awake. Grey was holding a glass of water, the sight of it making her mouth all the drier. She moved her hands, taking hold of the rope instead of hanging in her wrist joints, finding solid footing on the concrete. Grey didn’t seem to notice her readying herself for an attack. 

“I thought you might want some water,” He led up the glass. “It isn’t just out of the kindness of my heart I know you wont accept something like that, you’re much more a…  _ trade _ kind of girl.” 

Sol almost rolled her eyes. 

Grey stepped towards her, eyes running over her body hungrily. “It’s not always you get the chance to get with a princess.”

_ This ‘chance’ will be the death of you, _ Sol thought. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled away and she felt… relief. He was here. A tremor went through the building, dust and pebbles shook free from the growing cracks. The glass shattered on the ground, the water making the damp floor a small pool, sharp pieces cutting into Sol’s legs. Grey’s eyes widened and would widen even further when Sol brought her foot up between his legs, a peeping breath leaving him as he went to his knees holding his crotch. 

Sol growled at the pain, holding herself up, abdominal muscles tensioning as she lifted legs and hips up, wrapping her thighs around Grey’s exposed neck. She locked him in that position, braiding her legs behind him to tighten her hold. He wanted to get between her legs and now he would die there, it was only fitting. Sol ground her teeth together, snarling and growling at the pain, using all the strength she had left to squeeze. 

Grey grabbed at her thighs, trying to pull her thighs from his neck, eyes wide with surprise and pressure, slowly reddening as blood vessels exploded. Veins had begun to bulge at his temples, face turning redder and redder. She would have crushed his skull between her thighs if only that wouldn’t have been easier to get out of. Instead she’d strangle him. 

When he tried to get to his feet, Sol twisted her whole body to the side, tipping him over so that he was unable to centre himself. This also mean she at times held both of their bodyweights solely. Her body had begun to tremble at the exertion of it but she kept going. It wouldn’t be enough just to knock him out, she’d have him dead. The trickle of sweat ran down her neck, mixed with blood from the wounds that opened up as the pressure in her rose. 

In the distance, she heard blaster fire and yelling but she didn’t take note of it, she couldn’t. All that existed right then and there were the room and her anger. 

Grey began to feel the disadvantages of being without air, eyes becoming glossed over, the strength he fought with dwindling with each moment that passed. Still, Sol didn’t let up, her thighs tensioning like a snake, the pressure beginning to boil over. There were a cracking, a strange sort of sound of his throat being crushed. His eyes fell back in his head and he stopped fighting altogether, hanging limp in her hold. 

Sol kept the same position a few seconds more, whole body seizing up, and then let go as the black dots in her vision expanded. For a moment or more unconsciousness washed over her, her body rocking back and forth limply in the rope. 

Everything after that came in flashes. Doran coming in, snarling and angry at her for killing Grey and even more for being right about Kylo. At some point, she felt the nozzle of a blaster pressed against her temple. She heard the door ripped off its hinges and the yelling of Doran. It smelled of smoke and burnt flesh. 

And there he was, surrounded by smoke that crept over his black shoulders like caressing tendrils, whirling in the smallest of wind. Their eyes had connected and she felt so relieved to see him. Her head was torn back by the hair and then suddenly released. In a blink of an eye, or so Sol felt, Kylo was there, arms wrapping around her waist as he brought his sabre up to burn through chain and rope all the same. She wasn’t able to hold herself up. Gravity took over immediately only bestered by Kylo’s strength. He fell to his knees with her, cradling her head on his shoulder while the other hand came up to brush hair out of her face. 

She was safe now. “ _ I told them _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still out sailing and work 12 hours a day so I haven't gotten any time to write, but when I get home I'll try and produce 2 chapters each week so that I can try and update when I'm out as well. I get home the 2. 
> 
> ALL of your comments give me life and makes me want to continue and they especially help in this hard time right now. Work is exhausting. I'm so tired. But I'm so excited for the next chapter since it will be entirely from Kylo's perspective.


	20. Body Counts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo goes on a mission to save Sol. Constraint is not his biggest virtue.

Kylo was meditating in his trophy room, the grotesque mask of Darth Vader taking up a pedestal in the middle of the room, the hollow melted eyes comets of it staring him down silently. He came in the room to meditate often, asking for his grandfather's guidance. Kylo visited the room more often since he was married to Sol, hoping for answers of what to do, for direction and instruction. He found silence more often than answers. 

Kylo breathed in, slowly and controlled, when there was a certain shift that made a cold hand run down his spine. He knew immediately that something was wrong. His grandfather's mask watched him coolly as he got up, hiding his face in a mask of his own reminiscent of the great Darth Vader. 

Without a second thought, Kylo walked out, heading towards the command station. Something had happened to Sol, he could feel it in his gut, the churning making every step harder, hands opening and closing in an attempt to control the flare of emotions within him. It seemed that his mood was palpable enough to turn every stormtrooper, every worker and officer away from him. 

Eon met with him halfway to the control station, his walk brisk and strides long. Kylo could sense the urgency in him. 

“Master,” Eon stopped in front of Kylo ready to report. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kylo stepped around Eon and continued to walk towards the control room, Eon quickly falling in tow behind him. 

“We’ve received a distress call from the ship Sol was with has been shot down,-”

“What?” Kylo growled, the sound made even more threatening by the voice monulater in his helmet. Eon didn’t blink at him too familiar with his outbursts. Sometimes Kylo hated that, how passive Eon was. 

“We’re unable to communicate with them and it’s unknown how many survived the crash.”

“Gather my Knights,” Kylo commanded. “And battalions, we’ll leave immediately.”

Eon bowed in confirmation, turning on his heels and speed away. Kylo wondered if Eon was as eager to get to Sol as he was, it didn’t seem it, he was far too repressed. 

With a snarl of anger, Kylo barged into the control center, eyes scanning for one certain redhead and found him talking with an officer. Kylo stormed over to him using the force to push the officer away, his body flying over the controls to the aft cannons, landing on the floor with a grunt. Hux spun to face Kylo’s wrath, his face pale and eyes big. 

“You heard the news I presume,” Hux gleaned. 

“If  _ anything  _ happens to my wife I will hold  _ you  _ personally responsible,” Kylo threatened, stepping closer to the general, towering over him with rippling anger that radiated off of his very being. He was of half a mind to just cut him down right then and there. 

“General,” An officer cut in giving Hux reprise from leaning backwards trying to create space between him and the commander. Hux quickly found way over to the officer who looked over a map. “We seem to have received a ping from an emergency beacon.”

“Send me the coordinates,” Kylo seethed before walking towards the hangar where his ship was readied. “And check every ship that has left the planet's atmosphere in the last 5 hours.”

The hangar was bustling with life, columns of stormtroopers walking in tangen into carriers, all overseen by Captain Phasma herself, her chrome armour reflecting all that was around her with a distorted filter, towering higher than Kylo himself. 

Kylo boarded his ship passing his Knights sitting in seats ready for takeoff, ready to kill. Eon met him by the pilots' cabin, follow Kylo as he entered and sat down in the pilot's seat, flipping on switches and pushing buttons with haste. The ramp closed with a thump, vibrations going through the ship from the upstart of the motors. 

“Sol is strong, she’ll have survived the crash,” Eon comforted stiffly. 

Kylo glared up at him, tugging at the steering while pushing forth the energy outtake, listening to the hiss of turbines as they burned making the ship fly. “I know she survived the crash, that doesn’t concern me.” _ What does concern me is the people who dared shoot her down. They’re willing to gamble her life.  _

“When we arrive I want Phasma to go to the emergency beacon.”

“Not us?”

“She is not with them,” Kylo answered surely. Sol was clever, she knew that if the emergency beacon weren’t able to transmit there would be no help coming and the only way to make sure it was put up was if she wasn’t with them, she knew the reason they were shot down was her, which in turn also gave her leverage enough to survive. What did worry him wasn’t that she wasn’t alive, she was right now at this moment, but was worried about what condition she was in. 

The thought made him tighten his grip on the steering, the leather groaning around his knuckles. 

Stars speed past the ship in the familiar sight of lightspeed, and even that seemed too slow. He felt time gnawing at him, made him bounce his leg in restlessness, while his stomach churned and heart thumped. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to worry about her, it wasn’t supposed to plague him this much. Kylo grinded his teeth together. Sol was a vixen, a master manipulator that had somehow made him… almost care for her despite knowing full well what she was doing. But she was also something…  _ more _ . There was an easiness to her that made him crave her company, even if they argued. She made him breathe a little easier, lifted the veil from his head, and gave him a strange sort of solace. All of which was hard to admit -mostly to himself. 

He searched for her through their connection, reaching out to pinpoint her whereabouts while the tie-fighters scanned over the planet, searching for buildings and the like. The trees were tall and reached far up into the sky, branches and leaves weaving together tightly to hide what was underneath. In the distance, he noted the mountains and Phasma’s ship heading towards it. 

Then he saw the crash site. The ship had been torn apart, the tail wrapped around the trunk of a tree that had been torn down by the impact. Trees had been mowed down by the ship, their branches broken and burned, with metal scattered around the roots. He could see the bodies of dead stormtroopers, red against white against brown. He continued his search and found the pull of the string that bound them together. 

“We’ve apprehended the ships that left the planet hours ago. We’ve found nothing there, it seems to be a decoy,” Hux told over the comms. 

“Eon,” Kylo called for his second in command, the knight dutifully entered, sword ready at his hip. “When we get there I want the place burned down. Cut down anyone in our way. Tell the others.”

“Understood,” Eon agreed, hand on the hilt of his sword. Doing what he was told was one of Eon’s virtues, he rarely questioned and never had to be told twice. A good soldier. 

The rader of the ship picked up an old ping from a transmitter and Kylo knew immediately that was where she was. The tie-fighters flew over the area, scanning for life and constructions when one of them was blown from the sky, the tie-fighter apparently coming so close that it picked up something and had to be shot down. The other tie-fighter opened fire against the blaster cannon. For a moment Kylo wondered if it was the Resistance that had shot Sol down. That moment was quickly gone. The Resistance wanted her alive, shooting her down was a gamble. 

Masterfully Kylo avoided the cannon blaster, the thick laser roaring through the sky only outmatched by the hissing scream of tie-fighters. The ship reared to the side in avoidance, snout down as it dived for a spot among the trees at an angle the cannon couldn’t reach. These thugs were well funded which meant that there would be a lot of them. They were also trained it seemed.

The ship landed with a skilful thud, ramp doors hissing open as the pressure was let out in a white cold cloud. Kylo was up from his seat immediately, passing through his Knights as they waited for him to take the lead. They followed, each more obscure than the other, carrying their heavy weaponry with ease. 

Kylo could feel her, almost taste the blood in her mouth and feel the pain wracking through her body. She was in so much pain and so, so very tired. 

The canon blew to pieces, fire erupting in large orange tongues that licked at the sky, spilling over into the trees. Large pieces of metal rained down on the forest, some embedding themselves in the thick trunks of the trees, while others dug into the soft damp ground. 

His saber hissed awake, sputtering and burning with the same intensity as his anger. The red blade averted a blast from the enemy with ease, the blue laser changing direction and burned right into the ground. Kylo released the force, let them taste his anger and face death cowering. Screams began to fill the air most from the dying. Kylo cut down anyone in his way, he kicked open doors, smashed open those he couldn’t kick down while leaving a trail of death in the form of blood and bodies. Even though he didn’t know the layout of the bunker Kylo knew precisely where Sol was. Carved his way through the place to find her, his knights scattered throughout the building. He was alone now. 

He stopped in front of a metal door, feeling the fear, anger and pain radiate through the cold metal with only a mention of the panic the other person in there felt. This door could only be opened with a code, _ well, in theory. _ Kylo’d very much prove that wrong. The sabre sank into the door, metal melting at its touch, glowing molten orange. The lightsaber cut through to the other side and drew an X from one corner to the other, the hinges melting. Lastly, he used the force to break the door down, the metal pieces thumping to the ground, molden edges quickly cooling. 

He hadn’t expected her like that.

All of her fine golden skin was covered in dirt, blood or bruises. The pale strands of her hair coloured a deep red, sticking to her skin. Her stomach was bare, the shirt was torn just from below her chest, revealing the rigid abdomen riddled with dark purple blooms, swollen and undoubtedly bleeding internally. Her ribs poked out at him obscurely visible and out of sorts. Broken. One leg bleeds badly, the red blood soaked through the fabric all the day down to her bare feet, that looked just as bad as all other parts of her. And her face, oh stars her face. One eye was swollen shut, both cheekbones purple and swollen to the point where they were undefined, her lips chapped and bloody spit that dripped down her chin. One side of her face was covered in blood from a split brow, blood parted only by tears and sweat. The sight was unholy in the worst of ways. 

The sight of her strained his heart painfully, made his stomach drop and took his breath away in one swift move. Their eyes met and he watched as relief washed over her. 

Then that man grabbed a fistful of hair and placed the blaster against her temple, mouth spouting threats, yelling at him to drop the lightsaber as if he wouldn’t be a threat without it. Kylo saw red, red as her face, red as the blood that blasphemed against her skin. 

Kylo moved like a predator that fell into a prowl after its prey, ready to pounce at any given moment. His eyes were fixed only on Sol and the blaster at her temple. The force wrapped around the man's hand, his whole body shaking against the movement, trying to stop Kylo from controlling him. The man hissed through clenched teeth spit following in the air. He tried to press the blaster up against Sol again but Kylo wouldn’t let it, he wouldn’t let him press the trigger. He took a step back, surprised by his lack of control and Kylo took the opportunity to end it all there. The lightsaber roared as it cut through the air, the tip of the blade burning the ceiling before searing through flesh and bone all the same. He was dead before he hit the ground, body in two pieces. 

Kylo hadn’t even noticed the body at Sol’s feet before he stepped over it, noting the crushed thorax, eyes bulging and bloodshot. She had taken care of him herself. 

His arm wrapped around her waist, carefully, using it to stabilize her. Her head rolled back and met his shoulder, the smallest of breath leaving her. It’d be painful, he knew that, but he had to carry her. He almost wanted to coo at her, to tell her that it was okay and that he was there now, but he was afraid to say anything. 

Kylo brought the saber through rope and chain, releasing Sol’s body. Immediately gravity took hold, her arms falling along with the rest of her, right into his arms. He couldn’t help but kneel down, trying to keep her from falling to the floor completely, her legs in a heap beneath her. The lightsaber was placed back on the waistband. 

With his free hand, he brushed a sticky piece of hair out of her face, gloved finger brushing over her skin. She was so fragile. He was afraid that she’d break if he moved too much. 

Sol peered up at him, the corner of her mouth inching up, trying to hide the pain she was clearly feeling. She croaked. “I told them.”

“What?” He breathed, hands resting on the side of her face, thumb wiping away her tears. 

“-you’d come for me,” she echoed. 

Kylo closed his eyes, trying to swallow the storm he was feeling, fearful of the pain he’d put her in when he lifted her up but it had to be done. His other arm slipped in under her legs, readying himself to lift her up. 

“You’re safe now,” Kylo declared quietly, soft despite the voice monulater. Her body felt weak and broken when he lifted her, a ridged breath escaping her lips. All other sounds were swallowed. 

Kylo made his way out of the bunker with her, the few surviving enemies he met he killed with the force. Eon came up to him in the hall, taking up the rear to protect them one their way to the ship. 

“We’ve captured 5 of them,” Eon declared. A few trees were still burning, smoke rising in a column from the blown-up canon, making the air thick and sticky. 

“We only need one,” Kylo dismissed. “Do whatever you need to.”

Kylo carried her towards his ship, the biggest one he had personally, with its own medical bay. He didn’t dare look down at Sol, whose arms hung limply from her form, head resting on his shoulder. Could she hear his heartbeat? Could she taste the stress he was so vehemently trying to hide? 

The moment he set foot in the small medical room, the droid chitted awake, hovering to the singular table in the room, on which he gently placed Sol, trying best as he could to lessen the pain. Against the white table, he noted how red her blood was, how bruised her incredibly pale skin was. Gone was the golden hue, replaced with a much more frightening colour. Her eyes blinked against the light, rolling as she moved her head to the side to glance at the droid that scanned her. 

“How bad is it?” 

The droid beeped, a flash coming from its scanner as it scanned her. “She has a dislocated wrist, both ankles sprained badly, her thigh bone broken as well as her shin, broken fingers, fractured skull -a definite concussion, if not worse. Her chest has sustained massive injuries, 12 broken and the rest bend, but the worst injury is the massive internal bleedings. Both kidneys are ruptured, her liver damaged and her spleen all but obliterated.”

A chill ran down Kylo’s spine as the droid listed off her injuries in such a simplistic tone. He gritted his teeth, brows furrowed, hands fisted at his sides. “Will she survive?”

“I’ll do what I can here, but we’ll need to get back to the Finalizer, their medical bay is better equipped to handle such damage.”

“You will fix her,” Kylo threatened, violence radiating off of him. 

“J-just patch me up,” she swallowed thickly and continued. “-enough to walk myself to the medical bay.” 

Kylo didn’t know whether to be impressed with her stubbornness and constant need to not be weak, making sure she isn’t perceived as such or worse, a complete failure, or to shake her and tell her it didn’t matter whether she walked onto the Finalizer or was transported. Suppose he should commend her. 

“I will do what I can,” the droid answered vaguely. 

“You will or it’d be the last thing you do,” Kylo growled through his visor. 

“You must be in incredible pain,” The droid said and hovered closer to Sol. “I can give you something for it.”

“No,” Sol said at the same time Kylo answered “Yes.” 

Her dark eyes turned to him, the whites of them almost completely red with ruptured blood vessels. They were uncertain, afraid what’d happen while she slept. Physical pain was sometimes better than nothing at all. 

“You’re safe.” It came out harsher than he meant, the voice modulator distorting his words. Hesitant, Sol turned to the droid and nodded, putting her trust into Kylo’s words. A needle was placed in her arm, blue liquid slowly making its way through the tube and into her. Her eyes fluttered and became cloudy, relief flooding her system. Her whole body relaxed, almost falling in on itself. 

“Thaaat was not the fun kind of tied up,” She chuckled, the drugs already muddling her words and thoughts. Behind his mask Kylo felt the corners of his lips tug up. She glanced at him. “I think I would have liked you tying me up more.” Then her brows furrowed in thought. “Though the last time you tied me up it wasn’t fun either, but but, uh we’re friends -no lovers? We’re friendlier now.” She nodded in agreement with herself. “I like your hands, they’re so big! How can they be so big? Is it because you’re that tall and it’s not just the-the boots that do it?”

Kylo let out a breath of air a bit surprised by her muddled trail of thought. She wasn’t going to remember any of this when she woke up again, if she did she was certainly never going to bring it up, he would though, just to see if he could make her blush. 

A shadow passed over her face, thoughts darkening like thunder clouds splitting open by lightning. A tremor went through her busted lip, eyes becoming wet. She looked at him again, earnestly. “I don’t want to die.”

He hated the way her words cut him, the fragility of the woman in front of him a wicked blade that cut right through armour and flesh, right into his very being. He hated the way it made his finger quivered with the need to brush the hair out of her face and kneel down to her level, one hand holding hers while the other caressed her hair softly, and the sickening need to whisper comforts into her ears. He hated the way she made him feel all of this for her, feel the need comfort and protect her however weak it made him seem. 

_ Weakness…  _ Was that what Snoke wanted of him, to give in to her fully, well knowing that she was working an angle… Did she feel the same?

“You’re safe now,” he told her. “I won’t let you die.”

A tear fell out of the corner of her eye upon fluttering shut, the exhaustion coaxed by drugs pulling her into a deep sleep. 

Kylo stood still by her side trying to figure out what to do with the whirl of emotions inside of him. The small droid worked as fast as it could with the help of another, smaller droid, trying to mend the broken bones enough to hold together until they got back while it simultaneously tried to control the internal bleeding. A small red laser burned into the ridged flesh of her stomach, opening her up. It was almost painful to watch, every cell in his body screaming for him to move while his head knew that they were doing it to help her. 

He swallowed thickly. How many had he killed? How many had he opened up from scrotum to throat, cut right through, torn apart? And now watching her on the table was enough to make him want to throw up. 

The door opened behind him. He knew who it was without turning. As always not a sliver of emotion was out of order with Eon, he remained stone.

“Will she live?”

“She have to.” 

“We’re ready to depart,” Eon said, glancing at the table and then back to his master, noting the rippling tension in him. Eon didn’t fully understand why she was having such an effect on  _ Kylo _ . 

Kylo turned to Eon and steeled himself, taking a step towards his knight only to be stopped by the tug of his cape. Glancing back he found Sol’s thin fingers holding the fabric, clutching it for dear life. He should rip it to him and walk away, she was asleep after all, but he stood nailed to the floor, confused and caught in the whirl of it. 

“Should I call for a pilot?” Eon questioned. 

Kylo didn’t want to say yes. He much prefered to be the one behind the steering but he couldn’t… Reluctantly he gave an answer, “Yes.” 

Eon bowed to his master, jaw clenched, and left. 

Kylo peeled her fingers from his cape as gently as he was capable, softly placing it back on the table. Vibrations went through the ship signalling their uplift. Kylo walked backwards until the back of his knees were met with the edge of the bench. He sat down, elbows on his knees, back hunched and with his eyes on Sol. He stayed in that position until she began to stir. 

Sol’s eyes fluttered open, rolled and shut. She tried again, this time able to keep them open and unfocused, a frown formed on her face as she tried to wake up properly. 

“You will feel discomfort,” the droid told her. “You are not healed and I would have kept you sedated if it weren't for your wish to walk to the medical bay, foolish I might add.” 

Kylo stood by her side and watched as she tried to get enough control of her limbs to sit up, her hand barely managing to go to her head and brush the hair out of her face. She looked just as wrecked as she did before, this time with bandages around some of her limbs, a barcta patch on her torso where they had cut into her. Kylo should have told them to keep her sedated. 

“You won’t necessarily feel pain but you won’t feel your body either.”

“It’s fine,” she grunted out, pushing herself to sit with a sharp intake of air and her head rolling around as blood rushed through. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Possible,” the droid confirmed. 

“You’re still here,” Sol said, eyes on him. 

“Yes.” He let her take his hand and helped her to stand, catching her as her legs buckled beneath her, wobbly and weak. When she had gained enough stability she looked up at him again.

“The stormtroopers-,”

“They’re safe. They set up the emergency beacon.” Sol nodded reassured. 

The first few steps were… wobbly, less elegant than a toddler, but she eventually managed to stand and walk well enough that Kylo didn’t need to be in the immediate vicinity to catch her. Still, she let him lead her, her fingers wrapped around his arm. 

Walking to the landing ramp she felt the eyes of his knights on her. He felt them too. Sol left him by the foot of the ramp with a smile on her lips that was on the verge of a smirk. She left him to walk, stiffly and with great concentration, towards the small group of battered stormtroopers getting reprimanded by Captain Phasma. He watched her with his own little smile on his face, watched as she defended the soldiers and played the game. 

“She’s manipulating them,” Eon commented coming up to his side. 

“I know,” Kylo said and couldn’t help but feel impressed by her. Even injured she tried to play it to her favour. “Who was it?”

“Crows,” Eon answered, holding up a small medallion emblazoned with the sigil of the crow, three lines through a half-circle, the middle line going all the way through. Kylo could feel the embers of his rage flare up again. 

“You know where they are?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.” They both turned back into the ship and set off. 

A blast had the main gate blown to pieces, a huge round hole giving them entrance to the compound, the edges of the metal melted, still glowing red as Kylo entered with his knights following behind him. Somewhere the compound was on fire, a column of black smoke rising from behind the building. 

Vicrul was the first strike back against an attack, his scythe cutting through the flesh of the Crow with savage ease, the men behind his victim stumbling back as fear latched onto them, enhanced by Vicruls untrained force abilities. He had learned that from his master, using his enemies fears to weaken them. 

Next came Cardo, pointing a modified arm cannon at a group of Crows, firing rapid shots in succession, the group surprised by the sudden onslaught. The few that managed to escape, heavily injured, were finished off by Turdgen and his cleaver, using the blade to dispel any on fire before bringing the heavy object down on his enemies. 

A crow was tossed back by a blow of Ushar’s club, the modified weapon using kinetic energy to break the torso of his enemies, the blast of it shattering bone and rupturing internal organs. 

Kuruk, like Cardo, was the only other knight that didn’t rely on bladed weapons and instead carried a modified rifle that had three modes across two barrels; rapid firing, sniping and a pump action mode with enough blast force to fire plasma bolts. He fell back and took up the rear, kneeling down to get a more stable position, using the sight to snipe at the Crows on the walls.

Ap’lek was the knight of stealth. He ventured away from his group and let smoke canisters disorient sight and sensors of his enemies before using his modified Mandalorian battle axe to cut them in half. 

And then there was Eon. While the other knights moved heavy and blunt, Eon moved with a skilful lightness to him, every step silent and perfectly positioned. He didn’t use blunt force but rather cutting ease, his swords finding purchase anywhere they could, slipping past armour or directly stabbing through it if it were needed. He stayed by Kylo’s side, ensuring someone had his back even if he didn’t need it. 

Kylo was the master and it was easy to see. Unlike the rest of them, Kylo was unpredictable. He fluctuated between different techniques, using blunt force at first, then skilfully avoiding a blast by stepping to the side and swiping his sabre through the enemy. He used raw force as a weapon, tearing through any object in his way. 

Cardo set a charge on the main door, calmly walked away as it blew open, just like it had done with the main gate. 

They tore through the compound in search of the leader, Teinjen. It seemed as soon as they actually entered the compound, the enemy withdrew. Kylo guessed that they had been ordered to retreat and hold position, hoping that Teinjen would be able to stop the attack altogether. 

“With me,” Kylo ordered and the knights obeyed. 

They entered an office that was more like a grand hall than an office, with black metal walls and beams, the lights only entrance coming from barred off windows, protected by barely visible lasers. The room was a compound in itself. And there, by the wall at the back, hidden behind a curved desk, sat Teinjen. 

Kylo couldn’t imagine Sol in this place of muted horrors, with barely enough light to see a few feet in front of you without any help from sensors. He mostly couldn’t imagine the passive stillness she’d had to have, blind obedience he’s never known her to possess. What he could imagine, much to his own disdain was what kind of torture she had gone through to be there, not very different from the torture he had just saved her from. They were Crows after all. 

He was beginning to see red again, almost unable to withhold his rage as he thought of Sol’s broken body in his arms, so fragile that every time he moved she stopped breathing to withhold a cry of pain, the feeling of her broken bones curve under his touch. It made him want to wretch. 

“You could have knocked,” Teinjen spoke from behind his desk, protected by two massive droids reminiscent from the time of the Empire. Their weapons were trained on the intruders. 

Kylo strode towards the Crow, stopping a few meters from the desk as the droids took a step forward as a warning. He wasn’t afraid of them, he barely gave them any value. Teinjen must know that he was severely outnumbered, perhaps not in numbers itself, but in pure skill. If he knew of the threat he didn’t reveal it. 

“If I did that you’d think I came here to be friends,” Kylo replied with venom. 

“You’re making a mistake in counting us as the enemy,” Teinjen warned. 

“You made me your enemy when you decided to capture and torture  _ my wife _ .”

Teinjen frowned, thick lips turning down at the corners, yellow eyes narrowing. “We’re not in control of what our Crow’s do once they leave the nest.”

Kylo had to laugh. They were Crows regardless of whether they worked under the direct order of The Crow itself or their own volition. “Are you telling me you had no idea what your men were doing?”

“I’m saying that we don’t decide what jobs our men take. Your wife is a wanted woman. She not only has a bounty on her head through us but also other guilds. Our men simply took a job that was offered.”

“ _ Your men should have known better than to take a job like that, _ ” Kylo hissed, almost losing it. He squared his shoulders, hand gripping the hilt of his sabre to the point he could almost feel the metal bend under the force. His anger rippled through the room and the droids took a step closer, blasters clicking into a locked position. His knights reacted by reading themselves for the attack. 

“You will remove the bounty on Sol and you will tell us who else has put a bounty on her head or we will level this compound with the ground.”

Teinjen leaned forward, hands gripping the blaster placed upon the desk, eyes darkening to a deep yellow. Kylo would like to see them wide and swimming in dread. “I can’t do that. The only way to remove a bounty in our registry is if the one who put the bounty there retracts it or its fulfilled, not even paying it out will help.”

“Who put it there?”

“That’s another rule,” Teinjen answered with a shrug. He didn’t possess self-preservation, Kylo decided. “We can’t give out any information. We have to protect our clients.”

“Then I suppose I just have to obliterate the Crow,” Kylo told with a wickedness Sol would be proud of. He had hoped for this outcome, it was much less diplomatic. Hux would not be entertained. 

“You can’t!” Teinjen exclaimed, standing abruptly from his seat, the sudden motion making Kylo’s knights move forward, inch by inch, spreading out. Kylo felt Eon’s presence by his side, waiting for the signal to move. 

“You can’t! We have many benefactors far more important than you! Destroying the Crow would be a grave mistake with repercussions that you can’t even begin to imagine. The Red Lady-,”

“Can’t protect you now. She’ll manage, perhaps even see it as an opportunity,” Kylo growled at him, igniting his sabre. Kylo would hardly feel the repercussions, the Crow -as connected as they were, was at best an annoyance to replace, but it’d hardly leave a hole for long. The Bounty Hunter’s Guild would quickly take over, they’ve been clamouring for it for decades. 

“You’re replaceable,” Kylo told.

“You can’t possibly kill all of us, we’re everywhere!”

Kylo turned to Eon, sensing a smile on his knight's lips. “Put a bounty out on Crow’s heads. Every confirmed kill will be rewarded with 1000 credits.” 

It was at that point Teinjen knew what fear was. He’d be remembered as the one who leads the Crow to their demise, his legacy ruined. Fear had begun to leak into his expression, sweat beading his brows. 

“Bring me every single sigil and emblem,” Kylo ordered his knights, who silently complied, slowly moving backwards out of the room, weapons still pointed at the enemy in defence of an attack. Eon was the last one to leave the room, silently revelling in the freedom of being allowed to destroy this place. He wouldn’t say it, ever, but he had hoped for this outcome. 

Teinjen shot and Kylo deflected the lasers with ease, unleashing his range with such a force it seemed to ripple through the room and latch onto anything in its way. The desk was sent scraping over the floor, forcing Teinjen back, while the droids opened fire on Kylo. He deflected, moving with deliberate steps, avoiding the blaster fire that roared through the air, burning into the metal walls, sending sparks flying everywhere. The sabre cut through the metal of the droid, an arm, a leg, the whole torso cut through. The other droid shot and Kylo felt the blast sear through the air, barely missing his shoulder. He threw himself at it, swung in a wide arch while twirling around, cutting it in two. 

Teinjen shot and the blaster fire was held in the air, Kylo using the force to hold it in place, the laser continuing to burn, violently trying to tear lose from his hold. Teinjen’s eyes widened having never seen or heard about such force abilities. He abandoned his blasters for the staff hanging on the wall, skillfully twirling it around in a display of experience. Kylo wondered shortly if he really thought he had a chance, but the thought lost its merit as Teinjen advanced, beginning his attack on the offence. Kylo toyed with the Crow but grew quickly bored. He was skilled, Kylo could admit as much, but melee weapons weren’t greatly used by assassins, and while Teinjen might be a master of the staff, he was in no way as skilled as Kylo. Sol would have defeated him, did she have the chance, especially now that she had been trained. 

Kylo let the force collide with Teinjen, tearing the staff from his grip, letting it fly through the room. Teinjen didn’t do better himself, being tossed against the wall and help up, just out of reach for his feet to meet the ground. Kylo pointed his sabre at the Crow, the burning blade glowing as hot as Kylo’s rage.

This man had signed his own death warrant all those years ago when he earned the Crow a place on Sol’s list. All Kylo did was to fulfil the promise. With great indulgence. 

Slowly, Kylo brought Teinjen’s body towards the point of the sabre, the tip lighting his fine black silks on fire, burning through the protective armour beneath and then seared into his skin, flesh bubbling and charring, a sickening grey smoke rising from the flames. Teinjen tried to hold back his scream but eventually let it out, yellow eyes wide in horror and pain. His death was slow and taken in great pleasure. 

Had Sol been there she’d gotten wet at the sight. 

When Teinjen’s body went slack as life had left him, Kylo dropped him through the sabre, the blade tearing through from his heart to his shoulder blade and into the open air. He then leaned over the body and tore the emblem off his neck, holding it up to admire the ugly thing before leaving to join his knights in hunting down every last Crow in the vicinity. 

Kuruk and Cardo had gone through the place, leaving bombs on every pressure point that’d bring the most damage, the small charge blinking away as it awaited the signal to blow up.

The knights met up outside of the compound far enough away to be at a safe distance and watched as the compound went up in explosions, metal and shrapnel hissing through the air, metal burning and melting, sending up a toxic column of smoke. At one point there was a bigger explosion of red, purple and blue hues, the flames had reached the armoury. The knights revealed in the destruction, marvelled at their work. 

Each night presented Kylo with their kills.

Vicrul, 19.

Cardo, 26.

Ushar, 20.

Turdgen, 19.

Kuruk, 25.

Ap’lek, 27.

Eon, 38. 

Kylo, 41. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I was fired after 3 weeks of work. Their reasoning was and I quote; "You're mentally fragile." "You're not suited for working on passenger ships" "You won't handle the stress of high season" "You won't be able to do your work tasks due to stress". It's literally what was said/written in my send off note. And I would like to tell you all that it is bullshit. The job was my dream job, I worked my ass off and not one complained about me, they actually praised my work and were just as confused when I was fired. Turned out that some dude I barely had anything to do with got me fired, he went to the captain (who he's close with) and got me fired. They fired me in a way that completely destroyed 2 years of hard work to build up, my confidence, my mental fortitude and stability. For a moment, I was going to post this chapter as a last goodbye.   
> Then I got fucking pissed off and Spite (just like Sol) I stayed. Now I hear there's massive firings in the company. One of those I worked with refused to work with the dude that got me fired, HR got multiple complaints about him and just how they're treated in general, so I started a tiny revolution that won't help me but will hopefully help someone else. Most are looking for jobs elsewhere.   
> And if you say, 'they properly fired you as part of the firings' then why didn't they just say that? It wouldn't have destroyed me then. No, they had to tell me that I wasn't suited? And that I should find something else to do because I'm 'mentally fragile'. What even is that? So, yea, that is why I haven't posted as I said I would.   
> I'm still mentally recovering and I plan on finishing this story. There's still a lot of chapters left to be written. I'll see what I can muster up the coming weeks, but for now, I'm painting someone's house so that will take some time. I plan on beginning to write next week. 
> 
> On another note; I loved writing this chapter. I loved being in Kylo's shoes, how conflicted he is with his emotions still, thinking one thing and doing something else. He's both hyperaware and blind. I hope to write more chapters from his POV, but mostly we'll see Sol and maybe once or twice with Eon and then there's someone whom I've only named but haven't introduced yet because... Well, I won't reveal anything, but they're connected to Sol and they'll be important. 
> 
> All of your comments means so much to me even if I don't write back so keep leaving them! They inspire me and I would love to hear your thoughts on Sol and Kylo. Or Eon!


	21. Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol gets back from being tortured, she tells Phasma off, she’s fixed at the hospital. And when she gets back to her rooms, Kylo presents her with the gift of dead enemies.

Sol left Kylo by the foot of the ramp, rather weakly making her way towards Captain Phasma and her squad of stormtroopers. The white armour wasn’t pristine white anymore, but dirty and roughed up. She was relieved to see that no one else had died but with Phasma’s stance she wasn’t sure how long that would be true. 

“- You disregarded the order of command. You were there for Lady Ren’s protection and you allowed her to be captured! You’re a disgrace to The First Order,” Phasma barked at the stormtroopers, voice somehow levelled and high at the same time. Sol was sure that if the Captain weren’t wearing a mask, she’d see a vicious snarl on her lips. The stormtroopers stood meekly at attention, one of them swaying back and forth on their heels. 

“You’re going to report to re-conditioning after receiving punishment.”

“Captain Phasma,” Sol greeted with a loopy smile. Her knees were shaking but she forced herself to stay upright, even if the world was beginning to tilt. Phasma straightened up, bowing for Sol in greeting, the stormtroopers following suit. 

“What exactly are your punishing them for?” 

Phasma paused before answering. “The stormtroopers broke protocol. They defied orders, things like these can’t go unpunished.”

“If you’re going to punish them I should receive the same treatment.”

“Lady?”

“I was their superior, was I not? It’d only be fitting that I should get punished as well,” Sol countered. Phasma was slowly beginning to look taller and taller. Sol could see herself in her armour, obscured and battered. 

“They left you-,”

“As they were ordered to do by me,” Sol cut off needing this conversation to speed up, she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stay upright. The fact that she couldn’t  _ feel _ her body, but rather a pressure and heaviness was uncomfortable to say the least. Every movement took great effort and concentration. Still, it felt  _ wrong _ . 

“Regardless of your orders they were meant to protect you,” Phasma responded. 

“And they did by following  _ my orders _ . We had been shot down, Captain, in enemy territory with no certainty our distress call had been received. I was wounded and would only slow them down, not to speak of the fact that it was _ me _ the enemy was after. If they hadn’t followed my orders they would have been killed and then I would have been lost.”

Captain Phasma regarded her for a moment, undoubtedly with narrowed eyes. She was, after all, a person that liked order. Sol was anything but order. If it had been anyone else Phasma might have cut them off short, making sure that the stormtroopers received proper punishment, but with Sol insisting on getting the same treatment, it was impossible to dish out punishment as easily. That only served to make Phasma dislike her even more. 

“As you wish,” Phasma caved reluctantly. 

Sol smiled sweetly at her. “Now, the punishment should wait until after they’ve gotten an all-clear from the medical team.” Sol looked them over noting that the worse of their damages was a few broken bones and scrapes, it wouldn’t take long for them to be discharged, but now that Sol had put a bid on the punishment, they’d at the very least have to wait until she was well again, something that’d take some more time. 

“Captain Phasma, would you please escort me to the medical wing? I’m afraid I’m awfully close to toppling over,” Sol asked sweetly. Phasma looked her up and down, then extended her arm for Sol to take, using her as a crutch. The began to walk towards the medical bay, the surviving stormtroopers following them silently. 

Sol was sure that if she had stayed out of it the punishment would have been fitting but none too great, now that she had gotten involved the stormtroopers had a bullseye on them, their punishment would extend further than just a one time deal. It only served Sol. 

The corridor kept tilting to the side, making it incredibly hard to walk, even more so with her shaky joints, the pressure in them somehow reminding her of being filled with water, swollen with pressure. Her head was swimming. 

“I admire you, Captain,” Sol stated, swallowing and then smiling at the much taller woman. “You’re very tall, I like that. And you’re a Captain of great renown.”

“Thank you,” Phasma said stiffly. It wasn’t often a woman was able to make a name for themselves within the Order, Sol would have said it, if it wasn’t because she was aware of how Phasma would react. The Captain didn’t like to be defined by her gender. You couldn’t really blame her. 

Upon reaching the medical wing they were met by a loudly beeping M-8 screeching at the sight of Sol  _ walking _ . “Oh, dear! Why are you up and walking?”

“Because I can.”

“Barely,” M-8 noted, rolling towards her, its metal hands reaching out to take Sol from Phasma. “You are lucky you didn’t make it worse!” 

Sol wasn’t so sure about that. Her body was beginning to feel heavier, limbs filling with concrete, stomach turning nauseatingly as her vision sailed. Was it worth all the trouble? Yes. 

M-8 guided her towards one of the private medical rooms, leaving the wounded stormtroopers to be taken care of by the other medical droids. The room smelled awfully sanitised, enough to make her wrinkle her nose. The metal was cold against her burning skin, sweat running down her neck. 

“I’m going to throw up,” Sol stated, feeling the contents of her stomach rise. The droid quickly passed her a basin at the last second. Sol wretched, eyes and nose stinging, a shiver running down her body. The basin was filled with thick red blood. It dripped from her pale lips, dripped down her chin. 

“You insane girl!” M-8 chastised, helping her to like down. “You could have died.”

Sol jumped at the prick of a needle, feeling the cold liquid flow into her burning bloodstream. Her vision began to get fuzzy, eyes blinking to stay open, each time they close taking a little longer to stay open. For a moment she wished Kylo was there. Then she thought herself absurd. She was a grown woman, she didn’t need him to cuddle her. 

Still, she couldn’t help but ask, rather weakly, “Where’s Kylo?”

The droid pressed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. “I heard he left.”

Those four words made her curse him out.  _ What a bastard, _ she thought,  _ leaving your wife alone and in surgery.  _ It was irrational. Why should he be there? He didn’t owe her anything and he couldn’t help her.  _ I don’t need him. I don’t need that bastard... _ Her eyes closed for good. 

  
  


Waking up was harder to do than falling asleep. Her body was heavy with a dull ache all over. Her joints creaked as she began to stir, blinking at the insufferably bright light above her, making her eyes and head hurt even more. She sat up with a moan, the room spinning once, twice, and then kept still. 

“You’re up,” M-8 stated, rolling over to her on its little wheels. “You will feel some pain and grogginess, it is to be expected.”

“It feels as if something crawled into my mouth and died,” Sol rasped with a dry mouth filled with cotton. She made a face as she tried to wetten her mouth. 

“I can assure you that nothing has done no such thing!” M-8 said in a preposterous tone. 

“How long was I out?” 

“2 days,” the droid answered. “It took some time repairing all of your wounds and then we put you in a barcta-tank. Your body went through a major traumatic event and it will leave you exhausted, the only thing to do is to rest.”

It took a while to collect enough energy to make her way back to her rooms. The droid had gone over all the procedures they had to do with a lecturing tone to its robotic voice. She had only half listened. Back in her room, she removed the medical robe, tossing it to the side and went for a shower. She had taken some time to look at herself in the mirror. From her collarbone to her pubic area there was a long pale scar that’d eventually fade with the right treatment. There was another scar on each side of her lower abdomen, one on her thigh and a few smaller ones on her back. A white scar cut through her one brow, eyes still bloodshot, but otherwise fine. Most of her bruises were gone and if they weren't, they were close to. Her skin smelled steril. 

She let the water embrace her. Worked at the stiffness in her joints, testing out movements to see what she could and couldn’t do. The worst of the pain was in her shoulder joints and ribs. The rest was barely registering. 

Sol dried off her hair and threw the towel to the side, a small cleaning droid springing from the wall to pick it up, before disappearing into the wall again. She sat down at her vanity having wrapped herself in one of her many robes. Her brows furrowed in curiosity. 

There, in the middle of all of her stuff, was a small black package with a note attached to it. Sol looked over the note first.  _ You ask dangerous questions - T _ . She opened the box. Inside its black padding were a hair comb, one of those you use as decorations, one she had multiple off. It was made of crude metal with a layer of silver, its teeth a little crooked. It had multiple stones on it forming a half sun of blue. The comb was common, handmade by a man still developing their skills by the crude finishings off it. It was one of those you could buy at markets, not worth a whole lot, not something Sol would waste her time wearing. Her fingers ran over its edges and found that the half sun could be pushed to the side, the stones disappearing into the metal revealing a data key. 

A smile sneaked onto Sol’s lips. She got up from the vanity and went to the table where her datapad was located. Sol was just about to plug it in when the doors opened. 

She looked up and watched as Kylo entered. Calmly she put the datapad down and twisted the comb around, hiding the data key from Kylo’s view. He wouldn’t think much of a hairpiece. 

Kylo removed his helmet and put it down on the table, his hair in a whirl around him, eyes dark and filled with fire. He smelled of fire too, of smoke and burned flesh and sweat. Some of the seams were flossy and ripped. Sol got up at the sight. 

His presence wrapped around her made the hairs on her body stand up and her heart beat a little faster. There was an importance about him. 

Without a word he held out his hand, presenting her with a ‘bouquet’ of medallions, some of them melted and others hanging on by a threat. Her slim fingers took the medallions, thumb brushing over the symbol emblazoned on the metal, the same medallion she had hidden away in a jewellery box. Her throat began to hurt, tears forming in her eyes. She looked up at Kylo whose eyes had never left her face, observing, waiting. 

“The Crow is dead,” Kylo said. 

“All of them?” 

“All of them. Those who might have escaped will be dead soon.” 

Sol had a hard time fully understanding what had just happened. Kylo had presented her with the death of her enemy, with another name crossed off her list. He had rained down punishment over them. Why would he do that? 

“You should have waited. I would have come with you,” Sol croaked out. Kylo’s eyes were soft, it sends a spike of panic through her. 

“I couldn’t wait,” He said softly. Sol put the heavy bundle of medallions down on the table and looked up at Kylo again. Kylo let himself lean into her touch as she cupped his cheek. 

“You’ve given me the death of my enemies,” Sol spoke softly, thumb caressing his smouldering skin, smearing the black sod over his skin. “And I will give the death of yours. We’ll get Skywalker.” 

The promised vow hung in the air between them. Both of their pupils were fully dilated, that fact hidden in the shadows. 

How could they confess to one another? Saying all the things they felt would make it real. Despite that, they were trading knives ready for them to be driven into the others back. They found that they were equals in this, even if they still had things hidden in the shadows. 

Sol brought his lips to hers, tasting the saltiness of sweat and eagerness on them. Kylo responded in kind, arms wrapping around her waist, pressing her further into his embrace. His embrace hurt but she found she didn’t mind the pain. 

“The galaxy will be ours,” Kylo vowed before pressing his lips to hers once more. 

They were two storms colliding, ready to wound the other and still want to brave on, with the threat of the other consuming them at any given moment and the possibility to merge into one big storm that’d bring the galaxy to its knees. Anything was possible. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a long one. 15 pages. If I post it tomorrow or Monday just know that you're all caught up to where I am. I just finished the next chapter. I know what will happen next but I don't know when I'll have time to write. 
> 
> Also! Please talk to me about this story, I wanna scream with you! I want to know all your thoughts!


	22. Critical Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol finally gets word from her friend and information on Hux, Kylo and Eon. Big reveal. Sol is not handling it well. Sol and Eon massive showdown. Sol raining down on Hux.

Sol was not exactly ecstatic to be dragged to the training room upon awakening, but there she was, wrapped in light clothes with her hair braided in a quick braid and lazily slung over her shoulder, arms folded skeptically. She didn’t even have time to look at the data key. “You know, I was told to rest.”

“If you can fuck you’re well enough for force training,” Kylo noted with a crooked smile on his infuriating lips. Sol narrowed her eyes at him, unabashed about the fact that he said it out loud in front of Eon. She was a sexual person and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. 

“I think I’ve earned a few days off after having been  _ tortured _ ,” Sol countered knowing very well that she wouldn’t be getting anywhere. 

“You need the training, had you been able to wield the force you might not have been tortured.” 

“But I did use the force!” Sol responded loudly, brushing a hand through the loose strands of her hair. Now it was Kylo’s turn to look at her with skeptical amusement. The look only infuriated her more. “When I was hanging there I moved the lever enough to get a proper footing.” 

“You moved the lever?”

“Yes!”

“Imagine what you can do if you’re actually trained properly,” Kylo chided at her.

Annoyed Sol snatched the metal ball from Kylo holding it up in a flat palm and then focusing on it intently, trying to make it move. “There you see that!”

“I saw you move your hand.”

“I did not move my hand,” Sol said exasperated by now. The ball flew through the air as she tossed it at Kylo, aiming at his head. It didn’t hit him of course, it stopped right before and was then flung back at her. Sol caught it in her hand. “See, I can stop it from hitting me without using the force.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you need training,” His voice was more serious now. He knew she wasn’t as powerful as him or even his knights, but he knew she had potential despite her stubbornness not to use the force. He imagined she’d be quite lethal combining her physical skills with the force. Alas, she had to train. 

“Sit,” he ordered. With a frown she climbed up on the table and folded her legs, resting her elbows on her knees. Kylo took the ball from her and placed it in front of her. “Concentrate.”

“This is a waste of time,” Sol uttered under her breath, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. 

“You said you used the force, what did you feel?” Kylo asked, slowly making his way around the table, his force in tune with her. It felt calming, whole in a way. 

The corners of her lips turned down. She didn’t like to think about all the traumatic shit she’d been through, let alone her torture sessions. “Pain. All I felt was pain.”

Kylo clenched his jaw and continued. “No, you felt something else too.”

“It was hard to feel anything else than pain. I could barely breathe,” she began to feel the ache in her ribs, the straining she went through to breathe. “I just had to hold out for you to come.”

Kylo paused in his way around her, looked her over once more, noting the scars littered all over her body. She didn’t let him into her head enough for him to  _ feel _ it happen, but the sight of her hanging there, limp and bloody, was enough for him to imagine how it was. The sight was seared into his memory. It was one of the reasons he went after The Crow so quickly, he couldn’t just sit there and think about it. 

Kylo glanced at Eon who continued training, undoubtedly noting everything that happened. He continued. 

“What did you feel just before you accessed the force?” 

“I was so tired and I needed to be able to breathe, so I focused on the lever. I was so frustrated and in so much pain. They had shot me down, killed my stormtroopers, and tortured me. I wouldn’t let them get away alive, even if I had to kill them all myself.”

“ _ Spite _ ,” Kylo voiced. 

“Spite,” Sol confirmed. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re fueled by spite alone,” Kylo commented with a smile. Sol returned the smile. It wasn’t wrong. 

“I wouldn’t let them sell me off like cattle, wouldn’t let them kill me like cattle either.”

“How did you feel when you used the force?”

“Powerful,” Sol remembered, feeling the warm spread of power fill her. Power was addictive, and oh by the stars, was she addicted. She felt it when she killed her enemies, felt it when  _ she _ controls the narrative, when she makes other powerful people cower, when he holds her, when he looks at her, when she knew she has a power over him only she has. A smirk grew on her lips. 

She let the fire that was anger, spite,  _ power _ fill her up, used the all the pain she had felt before and focused it on that stupid fucking ball. Her eyes opened and watched as the metal rolled slightly as if it were blown by the wind, then began to stir more, rolling back and forth and around. With narrowed eyes and a concentrated frown on her brows, she tried to lift it. At first, it was as if the metal ball was held to the table by a greater force than gravity, but slowly and weakly, she lifted it up. 

It felt completely foreign. There was a current flowing through her, natural like life and death. It was neither good nor bad. It just was. It was hard to encapsulate the exact feeling, but it brought a shiver through her, hairs standing with electricity. 

Perspiration pearled at her temples and in the nape of her neck. The ball hovered for a little while longer, then she lost her breath and the ball fell with a clatter to the table again bouncing twice. 

A smirk grew on Kylo’s face, a wickedly amused gleam in his eyes. “Again.”

Sol groaned. 

After levitating the ball 5 more times, the last time ending with Sol irritably flinging it at Kylo and hitting him in the chest with a thump, Sol couldn’t do it any longer. Kylo let her leave.

Finally, she had time to look at what was on the damned data key. She snugly rested in the couch, feet folded underneath her, datapad in hand and data key attached. It had taken a while to secure the device, making sure no one else could spy on her and the information given to her. 

She anticipated the power the information would give her, nursed it like one did anticipating a big day or celebration. The folders popped up on the screen, one titled General Armitage Hux and one titled Kylo Ren. 

She clicked on Hux. 

At first, the information was the usual,  _ born around the time of The Battle of Yavin, fathered by Commander Brendol Hux and _ … Sol’s eyes widened in surprise, a sneaking smirk forming on her lips.  _ A lowly kitchen maid. _ “You little bastard,” Sol mused meaning it figuratively and quite literally. The great General Hux was a bastard. The information filled her with more joy than she could express, nibbling at the nail of her thumb. 

It made so much sense now why Hux was the way he was. Being bastard born of a high commander must have been tough growing up, he’d have been put through a lot of rumours and ridicule.  _ Pride and respect, both something lacked growing up and now that he possessed it, he  _ needed _ it, it was the only thing to make sense to him and any threat to it was… infuriating to him, to say the least _ , Sol thought. 

In a different time and a different place, she might have pitied him. With this information on him, she got the picture that Commander Hux wasn’t exactly dad of the year. Daddy issues. Sol read on, through a list of friends and familiars, through his accomplishments. 

Then came the most interesting bit. Apparently, not long after rising to power, securing the title of General, poor daddy Hux died, rather mysteriously. The information about the death was vague, but Sol got the feeling it wasn’t natural. Phasma and Brendol had a history long before she met Armitage, it was odd that someone taken under the wing of a Commander and elevated through the ranks of the Order to turn on their patron. Phasma must have hated him secretly with Brendol destroying much of her home planet. After Brendol’s death, Phasma and Hux seemed thick as thieves. 

Commander Brendol Hux died in the medical bay with the symptoms of bloating, bulging eyes, translucent skin, failing hair and fingernails. They had tried to save him with a barcta-tank but the body dissolved into bits of bones, organs and red greying hair. Sol made a face at the mental image. Armitage was quick to take over his father's position. 

_ Bloating, bulging eyes, translucent skin, failing hair and fingernails, and body dissolving into nothing… _ She had seen it before, used it a handful of times, there’d be no trace of the poison. An awful and slow death, that was the way of the Parnassos Beetle’s poison. 

If it had played out any different Sol wouldn’t have suspected a thing, but she had a feeling about it. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, patricide, how outrageous,” Sol mused. No one suspected a thing and General Hux would have gotten rid of any potential threats immediately. If word got out that Hux had committed patricide then he was fucked, even if he never admits to it. Rumours held power on its own. 

The rest of the information was less juicy. 

Sol clicked on ‘Kylo Ren’. 

_ Kylo Ren has a vast history with multiple rumours to it. Sort them out yourself.  _ Sol frowned.  _ There’s no trace of Kylo Ren to be born or where he was up until 7 years ago. The earliest mention of him was when he burned down the Jedi Temple, from then on there’s a lot of stories. One of them is of Kylo being a padawan at the Jedi Temple, where he turned on his Masters and killed them all. This is not confirmed but its neither denied.  _

Kylo Ren wasn’t his real name, she suspected as much. There was a list of names attached to the file. 

_ Luke Skywalker, location unknown. _

_ Kyle Katarn, deceased.  _

_ Galen Marek, deceased.  _

_ Dolph, deceased. _

_ Desann, missing. _

_ Tionne Solusar, deceased. _

_ Ben Solo, missing.  _

_ Numa Rar, deceased. _

_ Alema Rar, deceased. _

_ Jovan Darark, deceased.  _

_ Seyyerin Itoklo, missing. _

_ Eryl Besa, deceased. _

_ Miko Reglina, deceased.  _

_ Swilja Fenn, missing. _

_ Eelysa, deceased. _

_ Jem, missing. _

_ Tekil, deceased.  _

Sol stared at the names. Unable to sit leisurely any longer Sol moved to the edge of the couch, feet solidly planted on the floor, both hands gripping the datapad, face in a deepening frown. She couldn’t really compute it.  _ Those missing are rumoured to have gone into hiding or turned to the dark side.  _ Sol didn’t read any more than that, deeming the rest unnecessary. Kylo’s accomplishments, his friends and foes, the dark rumours that followed him around, nothing of it mattered. 

_ Jem, missing. _

Her throat closed and she stood abruptly, heart hammering in her chest, blood rushing in her ears, she threw the datapad at the floor letting it shatter on impact, small shards of plastic and glass skittering across the floor. The destruction didn’t satiate the roaring in her. 

She should remain calm, breath easy and  _ think _ . The reason she sought out the information was to use it as a tool. But the calm didn’t come. Instead, she found herself pacing down the corridors of the ship, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. If she had a lightsaber she’d have destroyed everything in her path, but instead, she swallowed the destruction and gathered herself, tethering on unleashing it. 

Eon was practising with Vicrul, his dual swords against Vicrul’s scythe. Cardo, Ap’lek and Kuruk glanced her way when she came in, but quickly returned their attention back on the duel. 

“Out,” Sol voiced loudly, rather cold and harsh. The duel halted as the knights turned their attention to her. Any other day she’d have dismissed their flippant glare but this day she’d had enough with their disrespect. “Are those helmets too thick for you to hear?”

The knights didn’t like to be ordered around, especially not by anyone else but their masters. They remained standing, defiant. 

“Lady Ren-,” Eon began speaking but Sol abruptly cut him off. 

“I. Said. OUT!” This time she yelled. What made the Knights begin to move out of the room, she didn’t know or care to know, it might have something to do with the fact that their leaders smaller, thinner,  _ weaker _ , wife had raised her voice and revealing the undeniable instability of her mood that could match one of her husband’s tantrums. It’d be bad for them to get on the wrong side of their leader’s wife. If only they’d have done it out of pure respect for her. 

Eon began to follow his brothers but was stopped by Sol’s cool voice. “Not you.” 

Sol went and picked up one of the swords, the edge ready to cut, the blade gleaming in the light, reflecting the look of savagery on her face. 

“You said earlier you were told to rest and recuperate,” Eon said carefully. 

“Let’s just say I found another source of energy to tap into,” Sol told, voice as sharp as her blade. She went to stand on the mat and fell into a defensive position. The blade was searing in her hands, heavy and familiar. Eon watched her for a moment, not a sliver of emotion coming from him. Then he fell into position as well.

Sol didn’t wait a fraction longer. The blade cut through the air fast enough to sing, clashing with Eon’s blades, the reverberations travelling up her arms and into her joints, pain slowly overtaking the ache. Her lungs strained against her ribs, feeling the bruising to the fullest extend, still she never relented. 

With a wicked snarl on her face Sol threw herself into the embrace of the storm within her, let it sweep her up in its arms, blood fire in her veins. Eon fought to avoid her while she fought to decimate.

She kicked his stomach with a growl, Eon taking a few steps backwards to regain his composure but was quickly met with another sweep of her sword, narrowly avoiding it by deflecting with one of his swords, the blade was knocked out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Sol spun around to give more force to the next blow, this time the blade screaming as it collided with Eon’s. Eon was quick to use the impact to his advantage, swiping the sword to the side and using his body to throw Sol back a few paces, giving him enough time to collect himself. 

Her breath was heavy, sweat giving her skin a shine to it, pale hair escaping in wild tots from her braid. It was the sneer on her face, though, that was the wildest, one of pure fury. 

Eon let his blade fall, straightening his back to the fullest, no longer in a fighting position. 

“What are you doing?” Sol growled at him, rising from her own fighting stance.

Eon looked passively at her. “You know.”

Sol paused, furrowing her brows in faux confusion. “Know what?”

“You know,” Eon stated once more, this time firmly. Sol ground her teeth, unsure whether to give up her act or not. She hadn’t  _ meant _ to reveal herself. All she had meant was to release some of the fury in her. 

“Take it off,” Sol ordered. 

Eon hesitated, then compiled. His hands went to the side of his mask, slowly lifting it off his head. The first thing she saw was pale silver hair falling in strands around his shoulders and then his face. Sol couldn’t restrain the betrayal from showing on her face. 

He had grown from the last time she saw him, it was hard to reconcile the two. In her memory, he had never changed. His jaw was more prominent, cutting almost, the veins in his neck a sign of his stamina. There still was the touch of femininity in the ability of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips and eyes. It was their father’s nose. He had also gotten the exact colour of their father’s hair, silvery grey, meant to be held up in a bun, but was escaping the confines and instead fell around his shoulders, almost as long as Sol’s. 

“ _ Jem _ ,” Sol breathed. Her brother stared blankly with those deep pools of black. At the first impression, she wanted to throw her arms around him, then the betrayal came crashing in and the anger reared its head once more. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She yelled at him. The tip of the sword found purchase on his chest, cutting through the outer layers of his clothes and bit into the armour underneath. “You-you’ve been at my side the whole fucking time? You been a Knight of Ren this whole time, been right there when I was taken, you watched as I got  _ married _ , y-you’ve been…” She couldn’t connect the thousands of thoughts in her head. “I thought you had died!”

“Jem did die,” Eon answered, his anger more collected than his sisters. Sol wanted to drive the sword through him right then and there simply for the betrayal of his words, as vengeance. 

“Your brother died the day you left him at the Jedi Temple,” Eon told cooly. “Your brother was  _ weak _ .”

Sol stared at him. It was all the could do. “ _ That… is fucking bullshit. _ ”

“That is the truth. The moment he chose to become a Jedi was the moment the died. You should know, you were there.”

Sol gritted her teeth, the grip on her sword firm enough to pull the skin of her knuckles taut over the bones. She was shaking, the tip of the sword quivering with her movements. “So what, you were going to continue pretending you weren’t my brother? You thought I’d never figure it out? You let be believe everyone I loved was dead. You let me believe I was  _ alone. _ ”

“You are alone,” Eon said. “Because I’m  _ not _ your brother.”

“I wrote you. For weeks I wrote you despite not being allowed, because I still believed you were my brother. You never answered.” It was against tradition, against the rules, to contact anyone who chooses to cut ties with family, choose ex-communication. It was punishable. The moment Jem had passed his sword back to their mother, he died in their eyes and all the records. Sol didn’t believe blood was that fragile. She had braved the possibility of being caught to write him. At first, it had been frequent, the letters long and filled with stories, then as the silence grew heavier, the letters became less frequent, smaller, and eventually, she had stopped. Not long after the massacre happened. No one had mourned him, at least not what she saw, because he was already dead. It wasn’t long after Sol had a lot more family members to mourn. 

The sword fell from its place on his chest and she threw it to the ground, still shaking with shock and revelation. The coolness of his features, concealing whatever emotions he felt, was resonating in her. He might as well have worn his mask for she couldn’t read him, not a sliver of his thoughts were revealed, skin made of stone and cold metal. 

“Don’t mention this to anyone,” Sol growled the order at him. It was futile of course, Kylo would know soon, but she needed time to prepare. Time to absorb what had just happened. Their discussion was far from over, it was at the first arc, to be continued at a later time where  _ she _ was better collected. 

Sol left him in the training room. 

It was Hux’s mistake stopping her in her tracks. He should have noticed the heaviness in the air around her, if he did he disregarded it, something he was soon to regret. “Lady Ren, I’m surprised to see you walking around so soon.”

“Are you?” Sol sneered at him with barely contained anger. Her whole body was still shaking, blood screaming in her ears, hands balled into fists at her sides. Her appearance was over all of a wild storm, tearing through anything in its path. And now, Hux was in that path. “I’m sure you’d have liked to see me  _ not _ returning. At least, that is the impression I get from all the shit jobs you’ve been sending my way. Are you actively trying to kill me, General? Because if so let’s not tiptoe around it, I’d rather you put in a better effort and try and get the job done than sending me on astonishingly stupid missions in the hopes of someone else doing the job for you.”

His red brows had lifted from the perpetual frown on his face in pure and utter surprise by Sol’s candid speech. “I assure you, Lady Ren-,”

“Your assurances are void, General. The pattern is clear. First, it's the bounty hunters now it's setting me in the path of The Crow while feigning to protect me with a small squad of stormtroopers.” Sol stepped closer to him, letting all her frustration was over the General, who seemed to lose his confidence. “I’m done with playing this game. I am Lady Ren, future Queen of Ori, and I’m worth a lot more that you think. You will give me the power to control my own missions and you will give me however many stormtroopers I want, including the surviving ones of my squad.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you don’t want me to destroy your reputation, you  _ bastard _ .”

His pale blue eyes narrowed at her. The milky skin of his face began to get a tinge of red, the seams of his superiority beginning to fray. “What did you call me?”

“I called you what you are, a bastard,” Her words were curt and laced with venom. “Do you know what we do with bastards on Ori? There are almost no bastards on Ori because bastards are dishonourable.” Hux flinched, the frown upon his face deepening. “Bastards are children born of the dishonourable act of adultery. The adulterer's partner has the choice of divorcing on the grounds of dishonour, a frightful thing really but common. The child is of course given up to a children's home where they’ll have a chance to make a name for themselves. It gives them a fair chance.” The muscles in his jaw clenched. “ The adulterer is cast out of society, it's basically a death sentence socially. Then the most common and quite horrible option is to abort the child. Most choose this option as a ‘no harm no foul’, but if it’s found out that a child could have been born of adultery.” Sol breathed in through clenched teeth grimacing. It would too be social suicide.

“The last option is to legitimize the child, it happens, especially if no child can be born of the marriage. The child is adopted into the family name with all it ensues,” Sol made a face of faux confusion. “You were never legitimized were you?

“I wonder why? Your father never fathered any legitimate children or any other for that matter, so why would he keep you in dishonour?”

“Are you going somewhere with this ridiculous-,” Hux began spewing, trying his best to contain the anger he felt. Sol could see him tether on breaking. It felt vindicating to let her own rage out on someone else. 

“You were quick to take your father's place.” 

Hux narrowed his eyes. “Are you insinuating I killed my own father?”

“You were the bastard of a great Commander, a man of renown, with a reputation splotched by your existence. His only son, a bastard. It must not have been easy. With a man as proud as Brendol Hux.” Sol speculated that his upbringing was far from happy. Love wasn’t something he knew much of. His father had instilled pride and honour into him, made them his backbones to keep him up, while holding a knife to that pride by never legitimizing him. “There was no love lost between you. The only way you could rise above him was if he weren’t in the way since he refused to legitimize you. You just had to take what you wanted then.”

“These are all just mere speculation, you have no proof,” Hux countered, a sharpness returning to his eyes. 

“Parnassos Beetle’s poison. If you didn’t know of its effects you’d think it’d be a natural illness. The poison is untraceable and doesn’t leave much evidence.” Sol smiled at him. 

Hux stepped closer, a snarl on his face, eyes burning bright blue with adulterated hatred. “You don’t know anything, you’re just speculating.”

“You’re right, I don't  _ know _ anything, but sometimes speculation is enough. I’m sure I’m not the only one who finds your father's death suspicious.”

Hux smiled cooly. “All you have is rumours.”

“Rumors are a weapon in itself,” Sol chited. 

His smile faltered, then became stone. “You’re right, rumours are a weapon. You know better than most with all these rumours surrounding you.”

“There’s a difference between ballroom gossip and what is said in the shadows. I know what I am, what I was, I own it,” Sol stepped closer to Hux, running a finger down his chest, fingers brushing over the emblems on the fabric. “That’s the difference between you and me, Armitage .”

“You speak as if I don’t know about the rumours. The Order knows of them, but they don’t care.”

“They don’t care now. The Order holds the secret close because if it got out it wouldn’t go over well. Pratricide isn’t well received well by the public.”

“Selling your child isn’t well received either,” Hux commented. Now it was Sol’s smile that faltered. The general saw it and went in for the kill. “That’s why you’re here. The only reason really. We could take Ori if we wanted, the only reason we haven’t is because of you and your womb. That’s the only thing you are. A womb to be fertilized.” Hux was right in front of her now, she could smell the tinge of cleaning products, his breath tickling over her cheeks as she glared up at him. “What are you when you’ve birthed a child? What use are you?”

Sol ground her teeth, swallowing her fears that came with that particular question. She couldn’t deal with those fears right now. When she’d given Kylo a child what was to stop them from going back on their deal and kill her? That question was placed in a box and put away for a time where she wasn’t standing in a shitstorm. 

Sol put on the mask of confidence. “I’d be a queen and you’d still have killed your father.

“If you don’t want the whole galaxy to know your little secret, I would suggest you’d stay out of my way. Are we clear?”

“Perfectly,” Hux bit out. He might have bruised her but Sol had a knife pointed at Hux’s throat. He was clever enough to know that his battle was lost, but the war was far from over. Sol might be able to wound him with the ‘truth’ but he’d return the favour somehow. 

She could see it in his eyes. He wanted to get rid of her. He also knew she’d pull him down with her. For now, they were at an impasse. An unspoken truce between them. Both had to admit to themselves that they were just a little impressed by the other. Wickedness was a skill they both mastered. 

Sol continued on her way and Hux his, with the regret that he had spoken to her in the first place. Well, perhaps the regret that he hadn’t managed to get her killed was what filled him the most. 

The anger she felt hadn’t subsided at her encounter with Hux. He had rather managed to stroke the fire instead. Sol stormed into her quarters almost vibrating with the rage. 

The always locked door caught her eyes. With quick steps she made her way through the room, hands roughly pulling out drawers and closing them with a bang when she didn’t find the specific thing she was searching for. And then it was there. Her hands wrapped around the hairpin, the gold forming a fan of red crystals. The pin itself was long and shaped like a dull blade. Hairpins always had the potential of being a weapon, you’d just have to be creative. This hairpin was robust due to the thicker blade, it wouldn’t break as easily as the one in her hair. 

Sol hammered the point of the blade against the datapad incorporated into the wall, grinding her teeth in frustration as the tip scraped over the metal wall leaving thin marks in its wake. It was too late to turn back now, Kylo would know she had tried to break in. She wasn’t about to stop regardless. 

“Come on you,  _ -fuck _ ,” Sol hissed out below her breath, wiggling the point between two plates until one of them began to come loose. One of the crystals had fallen out, lying by her feet. The metal groaned and then,  _ pop _ , the metal plate came off. 

Now she had full access to the wiring. Sol placed the pin between her lips as her fingers began to go through the wires. She knew enough to defuse a good handful of bombs, how you wired speeders and ships, and how to break into places but she wasn’t by any means an electrician, which is why the first time she crossed two wires they snapped at her fingers, electricity travelling through her arm with that static, uncomfortable sensation. It wasn’t enough to kill her or even paralyse, but it did hurt. 

At that point, she was ready for just screaming into the room. Instead, she tried the blue and yellow. “ _ Motherfucking rat bastard! _ ”

It snapped at her again and her patience ran out. Sol took the fallen hairpin and brought the bud of it to the datapad, smashing it to pieces with a frustrated hiss. Small sparks rained down to the floor, a few tickling over her skin as she brought it to the screen again. 

Whether it was luck or skill, she’d rather not think about, but the door opened with a woosh. Sol discarded the ruined hairpin by throwing it at her vanity, the blade of it toppling over the floor and landing by its feet. 

It was strange how a second ago she was filled by utter rage, but upon the sight of the open door her rage evaporated and what was left was turned to curiosity, with caution of course. 

The darkness was thick and filled with shadows. The minimal light that was cast in through the open door was not enough to cut through the darkness completely. The moment she stepped in she felt as if there were a weight on her shoulders. Breathing because a little harder, a little more strained. 

At first, she wasn’t sure what it was on the podium. She walked around it, eyes seeking familiarity when she realised what it was. Its’ dark eyes stared right back at her, deformed and grotesque. Her breath hitched, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The hairs on the back of her neck stood, the cold hand of awareness running down her spine. 

With her eyes fixed on the helmet, she lifted her hand to touch it, fingers stretching out towards it while her heart hammered within her chest. This couldn’t be real, could it? 

“So you know,” a deep voice spoke almost gently. In surprise, Sol retracted her hand as if she had been burned. Her eyes found the tall dark figure, shadows creeping over his shoulders and darkening his eyes even further. She clenched her jaw and straightened her back.

“Know what? You have to be specific. Know that my brother is alive? That you both knew and kept it from me? Or that you’re Ben Solo? Perhaps you want to explain why you have Darth Vader's mask here in an isolated room by itself. Be specific.”

Kylo remained quiet and observing. His dark eyes ran over her, read every micro expression. Sol stared back at him defiantly. Kylo placed his mask on another podium, the resemblance to Vader’s not lost on Sol. She knew he idolized Vader but she didn’t expect  _ this _ . 

“All of that is in the past,” Kylo said, his voice strangely calm. 

“In the past?!” Sol scoffed. “ _ My brother is alive _ , that is not ‘in the past’.” 

As Kylo took a step forward Sol took one back, the distance between them remaining the same. She needed the distance. She needed  _ answers _ . “You  _ knew _ .” 

_ You knew what it’d mean to me that I wasn’t alone, that everyone I loved was gone. You knew. _ Those two words revealed how hurt she was. She’d never admit to it, that she trusted him as much as she did. Admitting to how hurt she was would be admitting defeat, give him too much ammunition. It was her own fault, of course, she had begun to let her guard down. 

“Eon isn’t Jem. Jem died when he became Eon,” Kylo explained. 

“Just like Ben Solo died when he became you?” Sol argued with a scoff, shaking her head and folding her arms in front of her. It was hard to believe you could kill a person and transform into someone else. There had to be something left of who they were, right?

“Yes, exactly,” Kylo said, stepping towards her again. This time she didn’t step back. His eyes urged her to listen, to  _ understand _ . There was a hardness to his eyes, a weight on his shoulders that wasn’t from being in a room with Darth Vader’s mask. His voice, however, came out harsh and filled with disdain.“Ben Solo was  _ weak _ . He was  _ nothing _ .”

With a confused frown on her face, Sol watched him. The quiver to his lips, the slight lift to his brows, eyes dark and importing. He wanted her to understand. There was a desperation in him that could be perceived as something else. Sol wasn’t sure what to make of that desperation. Eon had not been desperate. But Kylo was. There was something not right with it. 

“We’ve met once before,” Kylo told.

She remembered him. It was hard to believe there once was a time where he didn’t have this  _ darkness  _ to him. Where his eyes were lighter, filled with teenage irritation and childish curiosity. He had never been free of darkness, not completely, even then there was a storm brewing within him. But he had been more…  _ hopeful _ . 

“Ben,” Sol agreed. 

“I was weak then. Skywalker knew of the darkness inside of me,” Kylo began, eyes growing a little distant as he remembered the past. Restlessness overcame him, the usual irritation that was always associated with him returning. He began moving as he elaborated. “He watched me like a hawk, constantly correcting every mistake, every failure over the control of my emotions. Ben Solo was never good enough, he couldn’t compare to the great Luke Skywalker.”

Sol could hear the pain in his voice, the self-loathing reverberating within his chest. Luke Skywalker had failed his student. It was beginning to dawn on Sol why and how exactly Snoke got his claws into Kylo. 

“But I’m destined for greater things,” Kylo added, his tone shifting to a much harder one. “Skywalker blood flows through my veins.  _ Darth Vader's blood flows through me _ . And like Darth Vader, I will become the greatest force wielder to ever live.”

Sol’s eyes grew. 

“He speaks to me sometimes,” Kylo said, looking at the deformed mask, its hollow dead eyes staring right back. Silence filled the void in them. 

Alarmed Sol spoke up. “He speaks to you?”

“Guides me,” Kylo answered. “He has guided me since I was a child. He knew I’d live up to his legacy. The force connects us.”

In truth, Sol always thought such things as force ghosts were a myth, but like many myths she’s watched be true over the course of the last months, she expected it to hold some truth in it. She had to study up more on force legends. 

“He tried to kill me that night,” Kylo’s eyes once more returned to Sol. “Luke stood over my bed as I slept. He was going to kill me, out of fear, out of repulsion.”

“So you destroyed the Jedi temple and took a handful of apprentices with you to the dark side,” Sol finished. Now it made sense, why he asked her not to betray him. His master had betrayed him, abandoned him and failed him as a teacher. Sol had sympathy for him, but her sympathy only extended so far while her anger still burned. 

“You’re only telling me this because I found out for myself,” Sol contended, she stepped to him, hand coming up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the skin. Kylo leaned into her touch. “This isn’t confiding in me, this is damage control. I would show more sympathy and understanding if I weren’t so damn angry.”

Sol pulled back and Kylo almost leaned towards her touch, but stayed still, his posture hardening at the rejection.

“My brother is alive.”

“No, you don’t understand. Your brother,  _ Jem _ , is dead, just like the weak  _ Ben Solo _ . They’re dead and they’re not coming back,” Kylo snapped, lashing out at her. 

“You don’t have any siblings so you don’t understand,” Sol snapped right back. “He might not think or want so but I’m still his sister.”

“You’ll be sorely disappointed,” Kylo snarled cruelty. 

“I would take your word for it but I don’t think I can put much trust in it.”

Sol left Kylo behind in the darkness. His sabre ignited, the buzz loud and screeching. Red filled the darkness and she heard the roar of the sabre as it was swung around, hissing as it bit into metal, sparks flying everywhere. Her heart jumped but she refused to show it. With emotions running this high they’d end up killing each other if they stayed in the same room. Not that staying apart would prove much different. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions were running high, Sol understood the gravity of what Kylo told her and as she said, she’d be more sympathetic if she wasn’t also hurt by the fact that they had kept the knowledge of Jem being alive from her. As they’re both stubborn neither of them will bend anytime soon. It’s like one of those big fights a couple have, they still love each other (not that any of them will admit to the word love) but they’re also damaged people who will take it out on each other. Does it make sense?  
> This chapter was incredibly hard to write. I don’t know if I'm satisfied or if it makes sense. Does it make sense?  
> Eon/Jem is a tough character to work with. You will see more of it in the next chapter.


	23. Eon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eon meets with Snoke

The Supreme Leader had called for him. Eon was walking down the halls towards the holo room. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the weight of being called on. Not even his Master was above that feeling. 

Cool and collected he entered the dimly lit room and immediately felt the weight of the Supreme Leaders presence on his very being. He felt enclosed, wrapped in the sheets after a fitful night of sleep, unable to get out from under them as they restrained his movements. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though not at all pleasant, it just felt…  _ Powerful _ . To inspire such respect and fear all in one. 

The Supreme Leader watched as he bowed deeply in reverence. “Report.”

“Sol has become aware of our… familiar bonds,” Eon divulged, unsure what exactly to call it. The Supreme Leader leaned back in his seat, a crooked finger brushing against the skin between nose and mouth in thought. 

“So it would seem,” he mused. The Supreme Leaders gleaming eyes snapped back at Eon with harshness. “Remove your helmet, Soldier.”

Without question or hesitation, Eon removed his helmet, the weight of it lifted from his neck and moved to his hand as he held it by his side. Cool air brushed against his warm skin, tickled his hair and filled his lungs. Silver strands escaped their confines to billow down his shoulders. His face revealed nothing, it was a blank page that would divulge nothing. 

It was the second time within a short span of time Eon had removed his helmet in the presence of others. One was forced and the other obliging. 

“What do you make of her?” The Supreme Leader asked, not curious but prodding. Was this a test?

Eon breathed deeply and then answered honestly. “Sol is a difficult pawn to hold. She’s calculating, manipulative and self-serving. Sol has never responded well to authority, even as a child she was difficult.”

She had always toed the line between respect and disrespect. It seemed the years hadn’t changed that, only made her more inclined to manipulate the audience to believe she showed one thing. Eon had always found it hard to understand how she did it, for him respect and honour was his building blocks. 

He was uncertain whether he should continue. 

“Speak your mind, Soldier,” The Supreme Leader implored with the rumble of his crackling voice. Eon felt the pressure rise around him, pain prickling like needles behind his eyes. He breathed through it, something he had learned long ago. It was better to let it be than put up extra shields. Besides, he had nothing to hide. 

“Sol has no allegiance to anyone but herself, she’s not to be trusted. She may become a bigger problem in the future. I’m not sure it is worth it, Your Excellency.” 

“Your devotion is admirable, Soldier,” The Supreme Leader acknowledged. “Your sister has her purpose. But you’re right, she’s not to be trusted.

“Tell me, Child, what do you make of your Master?”

“Supreme Leader?”

“What do you make of Kylo Ren?”

This Eon was more hesitant to answer. There he was, toeing the fine line between respect and disrespect. The consequences of saying the wrong thing could be immense. No, not ‘could’ but  _ would. _

The needles he felt inside his head turned to icepicks, with each jab cold, blinding electricity shot through his head. He wanted to rub his face, wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, but the remained perfectly still. The pain was  _ good _ , it meant he was still alive, it was something to overcome. The Supreme Leader had taught him that. Pain was power. 

“I fear Sol might have a bigger influence on him than she should. She may use that influence against us. Master Ren is strong with the force, but he’s reckless and impulsive, she may feed into that. Master Ren’s emotions may blind him.” 

There was a distinct difference between Eon and his Master. Kylo’s face had the ability to reveal his thoughts, he wasn’t always able to control it, while Eon’s revealed nothing. It wasn’t the only difference between Eon and his Master. Kylo was filled with emotions, ruled by them in most instances, while Eon had learned to repress his feelings, swallow them down and lock them away. Eon was in full control to the point that the strain of control might snap at one point. 

The Supreme Leader narrowed his eyes at him, humming nonchalantly. “Those are the reasons why I need you to keep an eye on them and report back to me. We can’t afford to lose our influence on Kylo, he is one of our greatest assets. Your sister may influence him but she may not turn him against us.”

“What is your plan for her?” Eon asked questioned. The Supreme Leaders eyes narrowed further, the pressure around Eon rising, his Leaders talons digging in. 

“Are you concerned for your sister?”

“No, Supreme Leader,” Eon gasped out. 

The Supreme Leader let go, an amused turn forming on his lips. “No, you're not.” With a sigh, he continued. “When Kylo Ren fathers a child she isn’t of much use anymore. We can take Ori as we want, there’s no need for a queen. Her death would only strengthen Kylo in the dark side.”

Eon had expected as much. Sol’s death was inevitable, he had accepted that long ago. He had accepted that he only had himself, relying on anyone else and that’d be your ruin. He wasn’t going to let her ruin him and what he had fought for. 

“If there’s ever a sign that Ren will ever betray me, I expect you to do what’s right,” The Supreme Leader commanded. “Kill them both.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Eon swore. 

“I may take up a new apprentice.” 

It was all he wanted. To be the apprentice of the Supreme Leader, to be taught further in the dark side, to become as powerful, if not more, than Kylo Ren. Power was all that he wished for. Power to rain vengeance down over his enemies and avenge the family he had lost, even if they weren't his family any more, power to make a legend of himself, the power to be immortalised like Darth Vader. 

He’d kill his Master if he had to.  _ He’d kill his sister _ if she stood in the way. 

Eon felt strangely vindicated. 

“Now go, Soldier,” The Supreme Leader waved him off dismissively. Eon bowed deeply, his hair tickling against his face as some strands didn’t reach as far as others. He then turned on his heels and made his way out of the room, placing the helmet once more on his face, a small tug at the corner of his lips. 

The Jedi and the light side hadn’t answered the call within him. He had controlled his emotions perfectly, unlike Kylo, he had been the perfect student, but he had been meant for something bigger than standing as a peacekeeper. He had kings and queens in his blood. He had warriors and honour in his blood. 

His family was dead, the Jedi was all but extinct, he had chosen to leave both. Despite leaving his family, he still felt the need to honour their death with vengeance. Honour was all he had left. He wasn’t going to lose the only thing he fought so hard to maintain. 

But when does Honour turn into Pride?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a small chapter, I hope to get the next chapter done during next week. 
> 
> As always, Please leave a comment.


	24. A perfect interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol dishes out a punishment that doesn't quite go as planned. They make a truce.   
> Sol has her first session with Eon after finding out he's her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is mostly smut. You can skip the smut part and go straight for the end of the sex where there's a glimpse of fluff.

It had been about 13 days since their falling out and the rest of the ship was suffering for it. Kylo had on the almost daily thrown a fit that resulted in major damages, injuries and near-deaths. Sol hadn’t been better off, though her anger was shown in a more cool and precise manner. The ship was in a state of constant fear of whether death was around the corner of every corridor. 

They hadn’t slept together since, not in the manner of sex nor in the same bed. Sol had made it abundantly clear that their shared quarters were now hers. It had also been made clear that she’d not be attending training sessions when she hadn’t shown up. That was the first tantrum Kylo had. Eon had passively moved away. Or so she heard. For despite them not talking together, Sol kept an eye on what was being said and who said it. Stormtroopers weren’t especially fond of being threatened with death the moment they stepped foot out of their quarters. Sol played into that and acted as a more benevolent superior. The discontent with Kylo drow them right into the arms of her. 

Still, by day 13 Sol was itching with boredom, and even worse, with a need she herself couldn’t satisfy so she decided on a new way of torture. 

Sitting by her vanity she pinned her hair up with a single golden hairpin, before admiring herself in the mirror. Charm could get you far but beauty was a deadly weapon. She started with opening up her mental shields. 

She imagined herself sitting on the bed, spreading her legs to the side to give room to her hand between them, slowly rubbing circles on her clit. Her breathing would become heavier the more she teased herself, pinching a nipple with the other hand. She’d spread her slick with her fingers, coating them in the gleaming clear liquid before dipping into her core. A moan would come from her. 

Then she imagined Kylo taking the place of her hands, his long digits dipping into her as he lapped at her clit. 

The door whooshed open and Kylo came storming in, tossing his helmet violently at the table where it landed with a thud. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Sol smirked at herself in the mirror, then put on a face of faux innocence. She got up and revealed herself to him, the thin nightdress leaving nothing to the imagination, perked nipples pointing at him, the cut so short he could skim the expanse of her soft thighs, captured in a harness. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The wild fury on his face revealed how much her thoughts had affected him. It must haven been hard to keep it contained during his meeting. From the looks of it he must have left abruptly for lil’ ol’ her. 

“You know  _ exactly _ what I’m talking about,” Kylo growled at her. 

“You’re right, I know what you’re talking about,” She mused, placing a hand on his chest as she peeked up at him with the most wicked of smirks. “It seems you were busy, perhaps I should call for Vicrul or perhaps Kuruk, they seem like good-,”

She was cut off by Kylo’s large hand wrapping around her jaw, forcing her to look directly at him. Her smirk only grew in intensity. “I take it you’re not okay with that?”

“You’re fucking right I’m not,” Kylo cursed. 

Sol broke out of his hold, gripping the hairpin and pressed the needle against his throat in a threatening manner, eyes revealing nothing but wickedness. She leaned close to him and breathed; “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

Kylo’s jaw moved before being clenched, trying to keep back the smile that was forming. He was intrigued and amused. He wouldn’t be amused when they’re done. The hairpin dragged over his skin, nibbling at it before it was removed entirely. Sol stepped back and watched as Kylo removed his clothes. Slick had begun to stick to the top of her thighs, embarrassingly early. She had become slick when she had mentally pictured Kylo’s long fingers… Now she watched them as the removed his sabre and belt, worked against the buttons of his coat, the veins travelling up his arms. The expanse of his chest was revealed to her and she felt her thighs rub together. His skin was as pale as she remembered, barely visible scars lining the spaces between his beauty marks. He kicked off his boots and slid his pants off. Sol walked to him, hands running over his chest as she took a turn around him, admiring the flex of his muscles on his back. 

Her stride ended in front of him, eyes running down his stomach to the bulge in his underwear. Sol’s fingers skimmed the top of the waistband before they dug in and pulled the fabric down his legs, letting them pool at his feet. His cock rose to attention. Sol palms it, earning a hiss from him. One of his large hands came to brush the hair away from her neck, trying to pull her in for a kiss. Sol stopped short of his lips, letting her breath tickle over them. Kylo narrowed his eyes, lips chasing after Sol’s. She didn’t let them touch. Instead, she squeezed the base of his dick.

“Bed,” She ordered. Kylo wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone else but Snoke and she doubted it’d be in an instance like this. 

Kylo complied and walked to the bed, throwing himself down its length, gathering pillows at the headboard to use as support for his neck and top of his back. His large hand encapsulated his dick, giving it a few strokes. 

“I bet you’ve been doing that a lot. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

“Yes.”

Sol smirked, her fingers trailing up his leg, the tip of her nail leaving a thin red line across the pale skin. Kylo moaned as she came to his thigh, letting go of his cock to reach for her. Sol drew back and slapped away his hand, crooking a brow at him. “Do not touch me.”

Sol tapped against his thighs, “Spread your legs.”

Kylo did as he was told, letting Sol sink into the mattress between his legs, a curious expression on his face.

Sol caressed his thighs, looking up at him through her lashes before placing a soft kiss on his skin, leaving an imprint of her lips in lipstick. “I bet you’ve thought about my mouth.” She pecked another kiss on his thigh, his body responding by hips lifting from the mattress, cock throbbing with need. She could feel her own pussy throb with the same need, thighs wet with slick. Her lips found his hip, leaving another smear of lipstick. “About my hands,” she skimmed her nails over his skin before grabbing a hold of his cock. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted his hands bunched in the sheets, veins protruding in sheer effort to stay still. 

Sol would only weaken his resolve when her hand wrapped around the head of his cock, slowly drawing it down to the base. “Stay still.” It was such a simple order that’d be almost impossible for him. Kylo wasn’t very good at being still. Especially not when she looked so good between his legs, hair running over her shoulders to tickle against his legs, not when one hand was against his hip and the other wrapped around his dick, not when she looked up at him with that damning expression in her eyes before she parts those red-stained lips to plant a barely touching kiss against the head of his cock. 

A moan left Kylo at the mere sight. 

He didn’t have time to breathe in before Sol sank onto him, lips dragging lipstick over his cock, tongue pressed against the underside of it, flat and hot. A strangled sound left him then. His hands came to bunch in her hair and immediately her hot mouth was no longer around him. She slapped the skin of his thighs roughly, enough to make them jerk. “I said no touching.”

“Sol,” Kylo warned.

Sol didn’t take kindly to his warning,  _ she _ was the one in control now. She smacked him again, leaving reddening marks where her lipstick was. “I’m the one in control, I’m the one making the warnings, the one executing punishments. You touch me and you get slapped, is that clear.”

Kylo was intrigued. “Yes.”

“Now, five extra slaps just for good measure,” She ruled, first calming the skin with caresses before bringing her palm roughly against it. Each slap made his body jerk. He was enjoying it. Good. Sol didn’t hold back, each slap perfectly executed. His pale thighs were littered with kisses and red palms. 

When she was done with the punishments, she ran her hand down his cock again and licked against it, tasting the salty tang of precum. He wasn’t going to last long. She kissed his cock again, slowly parting her lips and took him in her mouth until she could feel him in the back of her throat. Her gag reflex had been lost long ago. There were still a ways to go, his cock wouldn’t fit all the way down her throat, not even with her experience, so her hand wrapped around what she couldn’t take. By the stars, he was thick, her jaws were already beginning to strain.

Sol began hollowing out her cheeks as she went up and down, the pace slow and almost excruciating. If it weren’t because she was still so angry with him, she’d have given him what he wanted long ago, but she couldn’t. This was one of the only ways to punish him...Well, the most entertaining for her anyway. 

When Kylo was nearing the point of climax, she withdrew. 

Kylo glared at her bewildered, the impending high lingering as misery on his face. The skin of his knuckles was taut and completely white with the sheer force he was holding onto the covers. Sweat beaded at his temples with wild strands of hair sticking to his skin. 

She straddled him, her hips far above his, hands splayed over his chest to keep balance. Kylo licked his lips and had immediately forgotten her order, hands travelling up her thighs, bunching her silk dress at her hips, a desirous smirk on his lips, one that was quickly halted in its spread as her palm flew through the air and slapped right across his face. Kylo’s eyes widened more in surprise than pain, though the slap stung. 

“What did I say about touching?” Sol caressed the burning skin with tenderness, thumb brushing over his lip. “I think we’re done here.”

Sol was about to get up when Kylo grabbed her arms, pulling her back to him. Anger and deviousness flashing in his eyes. He wasn’t going to let her leave him high and dry. Sol’s face was just above his, his breath tickling over her skin. The force took a hold of her, freezing her in this position. 

“You don’t get to play that game,” Kylo breathed, his voice a tremble beneath her fingers that was resting on his chest, forearms still clutched in his grip. “I can feel you  _ dripping _ on me.”

Sol swallowed, wanting nothing more than to close her legs to him. He was right of course, she could feel her slick run down her thighs, small drops dripping onto him. This hadn’t been about her need, but his. The plan was to rile him up and leave him with the worst hard-on that wouldn’t be satiated no matter how many times he tried to take care of himself. This plan was rapidly going down the drain as her own resolve began to crumble. 

“You asked me if I’ve thought of you and now I ask if you’ve thought of me. Have you thought of my fingers inside of you, have you felt unsatisfied with your own fingers because of it?” Kylo’s hips began to move, his cock sliding over her folds to give minimal friction. Sol bit her lip. “Have you thought about how well I fill you up? Have you longed for my cock?”

In one quick move, Kylo thrust into her. Sol’s eyes rolled back in her head, mouth falling open as he began his onslaught of thrusts. It wouldn’t take them long to cum there was too much pent up need. Kylo released her from the force, hands going down to stabilize her hips. 

The sound of him thrusting into her was loud and lewd, only the sounds of Sol’s mewls could be heard over it. Each thrust was hard and breathtaking. Sol gripped the headboard for stability, hair falling wildly over her shoulders and tickled against Kylo’s face. 

She began clenching around him, small quakes running through her body until it shook entirely. Kylo thrust up into her a few more times until coming undone with her, shallow thrusts riding out the waves of pleasure. 

Sol lost all the strength she had left and collapsed onto his chest, turning her head to breathe through the warm curtain of her that had fallen over her face. Her legs kept trembling. A hand ran down her spine, calmly caressing the skin. They both breathed hard. 

Kylo used a finger to swipe the curtain of hair aside to let Sol breathe, a small and affectionate gesture. 

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted quietly. 

Sol lifted herself to peek at him. “I’ve missed you too. I’m still angry with you but I’ve missed you too.”

She pushed herself off of him, a wave of seed dripping down her thighs, mixing with the slick and sweat. For now, she was too exhausted to clean herself, and she’d be lying if she’d say she didn’t like the feeling of his seed in her. Sol sprawled out on her side of the bed. “The celibate life of the Jedi  _ definitely _ would have been a waste for you.”

Kylo chuckled, the tension eased in his shoulders from whether they’d go back to being angry and separate or not, lifting from his being. “The Jedi weren't as rule-abiding as they would like you to believe.”

“I know,” Sol mused. 

Kylo turned and shifted down the bed until his head came to rest on her chest, one leg between hers and a hand sprawled over her stomach. His hair tickled her and she automatically began brushing her fingers through it, playing with a few strands while he listened to her heart's calm rhythm. 

“So, what was this important meeting I whisked you away from?”

“General Hux reported that it’s time to move onto the base as it’s almost done. A few months left but it's habitable.”

Sol chuckled. “How did Hux look when you stormed out of there?”

“Annoyed, uptight and constipated as always.”

“So you’ve decided to show up for training for once,” Eon criticised as she entered the training hall. 

Sol did some stretching, moving from side to side, unbothered by his tone. “Just because I didn’t show up to  _ your _ sessions didn’t mean I haven't been training.” 

Eon looked at her with a deadpan, or at least his mask did, though she strongly suspected that he would look as emotionless as the mask he wore. Then, he tossed the metal ball at her, not softly she might add. Instead of using the force to stop it or force another trajectory, Sol avoided it by simply moving to the side. Why exert herself using the force when there was a much simpler solution?

“You can lose the mask, Eon, it’s not like I don’t know who you are,” her voice held a drop of poison in a sea of annoyance. It was ridiculous that he should wear that infernal thing when she could see his face, see her brother. Perhaps it was to make sure that it hadn’t been an illusion, that it was very real. 

Eon paused for a moment, then compiled by removing the mask, placing it on the table displaying weapons. She stared at him again. 

He sighed. “Let’s get this over with. Just say what’s on your mind.”

“Did you mourn when you heard our whole family was slaughtered?” She might as well be blunt and cut directly to the point. There was nothing in his eyes as she searched them, just a vast, dark emptiness that seemed to expand for eternity. He had always been good to control his emotions but now he seemed without them entirely. She wondered what had been done to him. It was clear that Kylo had gone through major traumas that were used to control him. Not only that, but Snoke seemed to pull his strings, whisper in his ear, brainwashed almost. Maybe it was the same for her brother. 

“They were already dead to me,” Eon answered. “The Knights of Ren are my family now.”

“Could we cut the bullshit preordained answers and be honest?” Sol challenged, ready to smack some sense into her brother. 

Eon turned, looking directly at her, squaring his shoulders. “You want honesty? The Ossan dynasty fell because they went too soft. They didn’t expect to have enemies, they didn’t see the disdain brewing among the nobles. When I left, I was dead to you, and you to me. I accepted that.”

Sol was fighting bitter tears, swallowing hard. “So you just accepted that they were murdered in cold blood? That our brothers and sisters got their throats slit, that our 4 year old niece got  _ her throat _ slit? That Allora blew up in space? That our Mother and Father was surrounded and killed? You don’t want revenge?”

“I want revenge,” Eon admitted, a flash of emotion going through his eyes. “I want a lot of things. Revenge for what they did to our family is the honourable thing to do. The only way to get vengeance is through The First Order.”

Honour, she thought. The only honourable thing to do. It wasn’t because they were his family, his blood, it was because it was honourable. It left a sour taste in her mouth. No, she wouldn’t believe that. Couldn’t. Eon wasn’t as disconnected from his past as he would seem. Sol noted the switch back and forth from denying he had any ties to their family, that he didn’t care for them, to wanting revenge for their murder. She couldn’t figure him out, his process was chaotic. 

“The First Order isn’t the only way to get revenge,” Sol said. 

Eon narrowed his eyes at her. “Isn't that why you’re here? You stand by Master Ren so you can get your crown and vengeance?” 

“You chose to go with Kylo before the massacre. If you wanted it you could have taken it long ago,” Sol shot back. 

“I took the opportunity to become more than what I ever would have been with the Jedi and our family. The Supreme Leader is wise, he has power you couldn’t even imagine, to be his apprentice is a great honour.” Something overcame him, something Sol couldn’t quite put her finger. 

Sol couldn’t believe how blind her brother had become. He would follow Snokes order without question, without hesitation, and that scared her. Snoke wasn’t a god. He was of flesh and bone. But her brother's devotion was putting hime above that. 

“But you’re not his apprentice, Kylo is.” This seemed to bring him back. A muscle worked in his jaw. 

“Kylo Ren is fortunate.” Eon looked at her sternly, a sliver hidden within his black eyes. Sol was unsure what to make of him. There was no conflict within him, just an assurance. 

“Now, are we done talking or do you have more to say?” Eon said, falling right back into a teaching role. It was terrifying how easy it was for him to just shut down all emotion, and move on. Sol narrowed her eyes at him and half-heartedly accepted that this specific topic was over, for now, didn’t mean she would stop bugging him. 

“Oh, I have a lot more to say,” she began.

“I’m sure,” Eon muttered under his breath, throwing a staff for Sol to catch.

She caught it easily but didn’t get to finish her thought before her brother began his attack. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll visit Starkiller Base.


	25. The Kings Invite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They visit StarKiller Base. There's some fluff and some angst. Hux is an ass as always.

The hangar was bustling with life. Squadrons of stormtroopers standing in perfect succession as they received orders. Black tie fighter pilots stood out against the masses of white, the squad following their leaders as they made way towards their vessels. Mechanics in their orange vests were making the final preparations on some of the ships, while others guide the ship out into the takeoff bay. 

Sol closed in on her own little squad of stormtroopers, somehow able to differentiate them from all the other stormtroopers in similar armour. They saluted her approach. 

“It seems we’re missing one,” her eyes ran over each trooper.

“FN-2187 has been called back to the FN corps for special training,” Squad Leader answered. Her eyes narrowed at him in thought. If FN was pulled from her squad he was either too important to even be in her squad or the only reason he was there was to spy on her. Both were valid and infuriating options. 

Sol waved off her speculations. It’d wait until she could prod Kylo for information. 

“When we get to Starkiller Base I want you to get familiar with the surroundings. I want a detailed map of every inch of the place.”

“You might be more successful asking the commander for a map, it’ll take time to map out the whole planet,” Bees uttered, earning a scolding look from the squad leader. 

“I plan on asking for the plans of the base but if I don’t get them I need you to map it out or find a way to get me said plans,” Sol explained. The squad of troopers weren’t entirely useless, they were good to have in a fight, they were able to keep an ear out for any gossip and at times they managed to retain useful information. She trusted them to an extent but was always wary about any feedback she got. 

“We’ll do our best, Lady Sol,” Squad leader said before leading his squad away from her and towards the ship they were meant to take. Sol’s eyes followed them for a while, before turning towards the ship she was to take. Kylo was already in there preparing the ship. It was a smaller vessel with no more room than for 4 or 5 people. 

Sol scaled the ramp and made her way towards the cockpit. 

Kylo was flicking switches and surveying instruments as Sol came up to him, one hand on his shoulder in greeting before venturing towards the instrument board to lean against it. 

“What do you know about the FN Corps?” 

Kylo didn’t glance at her but answered as he continued to ready the ship. “The FN Corps is highly regarded within the Order. It’s lead by Captain Phasma herself. They score well on tests but I haven’t seen them in action.” Now he glanced up at her. “They’re stormtroopers that should tell you enough.”

“It seems a spy was planted in my squad. FN-2187.”

“Are you surprised? It’s more than likely you have more than one spy in your corner.” 

“So Hux withdrew the obvious so that I would think I’m spy free,” Sol mused, a small scheming smile on her lips that Kylo had come to like. Regardless of whether there still remained a spy in her party, Sol was confident in her stormtroopers. They’ve fought with her, she saved them and treats them well, loyalty was sure to have developed. But loyalty only reaches so far in the face of a strong adversary. 

The ship took off with minimal tribulations, leaving the bustle of the hangar bay behind for the open void of space. Sol watched Kylo plot a course towards the small planet in the distance. It seemed far closer than it actually was. Behind them were the enormous Finalizer. It loomed in space ugly and fully ready to blast anyone that comes in its way. Did ships like these ever look pleasing? No, that wasn't the aesthetic The First Order was going for they aimed for a more menacing look. 

“What is that rust bucket?” Sol asked pointing towards a flat rusty ship which had multiple ejections of white pressurized gas or O2 hissing out of it. 

“ _ That is the Night Buzzard. _ It's The Knights of Ren’s ship.”

“I would have thought your knights would have gotten the best ship in the First Order navy,” Sol mused. 

“It is a  _ repurposed _ prison transport.”

“Meaning you slaughtered the prisoners and decided that it’d be a good vessel to use for its incognito appearance. It looks like a death trap.”

“It is.” Kylo didn’t elaborate. 

“It’s not very pretty,” Sol huffed in a bored tone. 

“It doesn't have to be ‘ _ pretty _ ,” Kylo answered back, skewing the way she had used the word ‘pretty’. “Is that why it took you an hour and a half to be ready?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did my dilemma of choosing to wear my hair up or down take too much time? Don’t you want me to look pretty,” Sol bickered back, cocking her head to the side with a sly smile on her lips. “We can’t all put on a helmet and call it a day.” She ticked her nail against the side of his helmet for emphasis. 

Kylo knew that she knew she was beautiful, even without her emphasis on how she dressed and the makeup she wore. It didn’t matter, not to him. But he also knew she enjoyed those things, she enjoyed using her appearance as a weapon, for that was what it was. A weapon. “You  _ could _ put on a helmet and call it a day, your vanity won’t let you.”

Sol waved off the vanity remark. “But without my face what else will there be to look at? The First Order is especially bland in the fashion sense, there isn’t much beauty.”

“There isn’t much need for beauty in The First Order.”

“Then there’s all the more need for me, isn't there,” Sol smiled at him, fluttering her lashes. All Kylo could do was shake his head, the helmet hiding the small upward turn to his lips. 

“Perhaps I could use my exceedingly good looks to get the layout of the base,” Sol mused with pursed lips.

“You want the schematics?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You don't trust me.” Sol pouted. 

Kylo rolled his eyes. “Not with your track record and that devilish gleam in your eyes.”

“Maybe I could lure Armitage with my looks then, I know he’s been lusting after me since I stepped foot on the Finalizer.” Hux was a thorn in Kylo’s side, one she knew exactly how to use to rile him up. She could feel the heavy glare from behind his mask and knew that his mouth did that thing it did when he became annoyed. Sol quirked a brow at him. 

“As much as I love playing this game with you, you and I both know that Hux absolutely loathes you and trust you even less than I do,” Kylo answered. Hux didn’t trust her one bit, he might have withdrawn from their game of who could piss off who the most and retreated to a more… formal version of the game. How she had managed to make him do that Kylo didn’t know. All he knew was that they were ‘friendlier’. He still wouldn’t trust her though. 

“They say the best sex you’ll ever have is with someone who hates you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“No? Are you jealous, sweet husband?”

“Jealous of Hux? Never.” It was a true statement. He’d never be jealous of Hux, he’d rather die. Or even better, he’d rather have  _ Hux _ die. “Besides, the best sex you’ll ever have, you already had.” 

Sol let out a burst of genuine laughter, affectionately smacking the side of his helmet. “Oh yea, there was this Mirialan…”

“I liked you much better when that mouth of your was stuffed with my-,”

“You’re entering the restricted airspace of StarKiller Base,” a voice sounded over the radio, efficiently cutting Kylo off. He sent Sol a narrow glare, to which she smiled innocently. That woman has never been innocent in her life, Kylo thought. 

“This is Kylo Ren, I suggest you do not call me up every time I enter into restricted airspace.” The threat in his tone was evident, but Sol could still catch the small sliver of amusement from their bickering. 

“Sorry, Sir.” The radio went silent. 

Sol got up and moved around the pilot seat, hands running up his arms to lay flat on those big, tense shoulders. She leaned down to where his ear was. “I also liked you better with your cock in my mouth.” With those final words, she walked out of the cockpit to prepare herself for landing, leaving a further tense and very smirking Kylo behind. 

Landing the ship seemed much easier with Kylo at the helm. It was smooth and less bumpy, something she appreciated as she looked over herself in the reflection of a knife she had hidden between her shoulder blades. Kylo might have teased her with how she looked, but today she had decided to wear something more conforming. Long black pants that flowed at the bottom and a thin, tight shirt that dipped between her breasts in a revealing display. She even wore boots. As much as she loved extravagant and dramatic dresses, she was beginning to appreciate the minimalist style, with a twist of course. 

Sol was the first one down the ramp, eyes wide as she looked around the massive hangar with multiple tie-fighters lining the side of the walls, as well as multiple ships ready on deck to fly off at any given time. White stormtroopers were unloading ships and carrying big boxes towards their destinations, while officers were overlooking lists and protocols, with a demanding finger, pointing in any given direction. And this was just one hangar. The heavy doors that stood open to the word outside let in a freezing gust of wind, snow flickering through the air at the far off side of where she stood. 

Sol felt the cold prickle at her fingertips. She never cared much for cold. 

“There you are,” Hux said, appearing by her side with a downwards turn to his lips. His voice told her that he’d rather be anywhere than here with them. 

“I have to admit, General,” Sol began, eyes big in surprise and wonder. “I’m impressed.”

Hux blinked at her, her words unexpected and taking him by surprise. He barely acknowledged Kylo as he came up beside his wife. 

“This is a formidable feat.”

“Yes, well,” Hux said, uncomfortable with Sol’s compliments. “The First Order is capable of many formidable things, this is one of them. Ren, after you’ve shown your wife around bring her to the command centre for debriefing, yes?” Hux didn’t wait for affirmations before leaving, casting one narrow look towards Sol who responded with one of her own. For someone seeking praise all his life he sure is uncomfortable with getting it. Maybe it was because it was coming from her. It was.

Small bumps rose on Sol’s skin as the cold began to set in. Unconsciously she ran her hands over her arms, shoulders rising just a little. 

“I told you it’d be cold,” Kylo hummed with his modified voice, always sounding much harder and distorted than what he really meant. Sol had begun to understand when that hardness was real and when it was just the distortion. 

“Well, couldn’t you have found a warmer planet to build the base on?” Sol chided back, accepting Kylo’s cape around her shoulders, his warmth lingering. It was strange to see him without the cape around him. The fabric now dragged over the floor as he leads her towards the inner halls. 

It was one thing to build a massive base, another entirely, to build a base  _ into _ a whole planet. Albeit it was a smaller planet but it was  _ still a planet _ . The halls looked much like the Finalizer, but the walls were integrated stone, a mixture of organic and metal. All the halls looked the same, the length of them twisting and turning into a maze of a greater scale ever seen. 

“You’ll need a device or a map to figure out this place,” Sol noted, looking at Kylo with lifted brows. 

“You won’t need it, the places you’ll be the most are within a distance of one another. I doubt you’ll ever need to go to the disposal floor,” Kylo answered back, turning down another hall and stepping into an elevator. The floors seemed endless. 

“You don’t know where I’ll go. I might want to see the method of which the garbage is disposed of or perhaps I’ll want to know where the cantina is or where the storage locker for mechanical parts is.”

“You’re incredulous.”

“Thank you,” Sol smiled. 

“You’ll have a map, that is all I can give you, you’re not cleared for anything else,” Kylo caved. Sol’s smile grew.  _ I might not be cleared for anything else, but I will get it if I want it, _ Sol thought. No doubt Kylo had an inkling about it too. 

The tour of the place lead her through the training facilities, the officer and general quarters and ended in what would be their quarters. The aesthetic wasn’t much different from the finalizer, bland, grey and boring. What she did find was the view of the large panoramic window. Outside the snow fell in soft flakes from a dark sky above, trees reaching towards the sky and covered in ice, rock and stones and  _ earth _ . Along the bottom of the window was a thin mat for sitting, just like on the finalizer. 

“I’ve missed earth beneath my feet,” Sol mused. She hadn’t spent much time in space before coming to the Finalizer, only in transit. “Most of this earth is metal and machinery, but it is earth.”

“We’ll travel between here and the Finalizer,” Kylo informed, now his voice clear and smooth. In the reflection of the window, she watched Kylo come up behind her, felt him before he even touched her, a large hand on the small of her back. 

Sol made a face. “That means more dresses and jewellery for me.”

“You’re going to bleed the First Order dry with your dresses,” Kylo chuckled. 

“If the Order can be bled dry by a few dresses I’m afraid they won't last long anyway.” 

“I have something for you,” Kylo said, his voice soft as velvet. Sol turned to look at him, head tilting slightly back as he towered over her. He looked soft then, calm. 

“Is it dresses?” Sol teased with a quirk of her lips. 

“No, so don’t be disappointed,” Kylo answered back. Sol jutted out her bottom lip in a pout that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “I believe it is custom on Ori for the groom to give the bride a weapon as a token of good faith.”

Sol paused. “That is a rock. You’re giving me a rock as a weapon?”

Kylo contained his laughter. “It's not a rock. It’s a Kyber crystal. They’re exceedingly rare and near to impossible to find.” 

It was incredibly small in his hands, its pale, colourless gleam shining up at her as it reflected the light. Sol felt a low hum come from it. It felt electric and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Around the crystal was a silver chain mounted to the top of it so that it may be carried like a necklace. 

“I do like the words ‘exceedingly rare’ and ‘impossible’ in connection to gifts,” Sol grinned at him, which he returned in kind, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Sol turned around and gathered her hair to pull away from her neck so that Kylo could place it there. It felt cool and yet warm against her skin. The tips of his fingers lingered on her skin before she turned to face him again. “But you do know I have no idea how it works, right?”

“I hope that one day you may carry a lightsaber too.” Sol brought his lips to hers and kissed him passionately. Kylo’s arms wrapped around her waist and brought her flush against him. 

When she pulled back for air she looked at him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I warn you, Kylo Ren, me with a lightsaber would be a disaster raining down on my enemies. I’m much easier to control with a melee blade in my hands. With a lightsaber, no one will know what I’ll do.”

Sol prefered a real sword in her hands to a lightsaber, but she couldn’t deny the fact that a lightsaber was a great and powerful weapon. Perhaps, she’ll grow into it. Or perhaps, she’ll always prefer a sword to a sabre. It wouldn’t harm to have both. 

Sol was quite excited to see the command centre of the base. It was massive but not much bigger than the one on the Finalizer and not much different either. Regardless of that, it was bustling with activity. One section was surveying airspace, another was checking up on power stations and a third was communicating with in- and outgoing traffic. There was a constant flow of operators and officers. Of course, there would be, they were still building it. 

From what Sol caught a glimpse of there was still a large area they were building on. It was a massive circular hole, with tilted sides leading into the planet and whatever depths there were. Small spacecraft were hovering over plates, with technicians still working on the electrics. 

Hux greeted them cooly, or rather, he greeted Sol since Kylo was pulled elsewhere for something. Sol eyed her husband narrowly for abandoning her with Hux as his tirade of words that simmered down to what she wasn't allowed to do. Mainly it was, don’t divulge any First Order secrets. The usual. 

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to build the base as a planet on its own instead of building it into a planet?”

Hux eyed her with his piercing blue eyes, and that usual ‘I’m better than you’ sneer on his face. “Building StarKiller Base into the planet was structurally a better choice. The areas which are covered in landmass gives protection to the base beneath and the areas that are not covered are easier to protect. It is also less prone to be destabilized when the weapon is eventually fired.”

“You’re saying the Death Star wasn’t as stable and secure as this base?”

“The Death Star was a structural wonder of its time,” Hux answered confidently. He wasn’t directly saying it was a failure as much as a wonder, but the words were there in his tone. 

“So you don’t think the Resistance will be able to make it go boom as easy?”

His eyes narrowed. “No, they certainly won't ‘make it go boom’.”

“But a structure like this must have its weaknesses,” Sol continued to prod. If things were to go to shit, she’d prefer to know what areas were weak and how to get off the planet if it came to it. It was basic self-preservation. Of course, it was also probing into a territory Hux didn’t think she had any business being in. 

“StarKiller Base is protected by a force field, multiple cannons spread far and wide, with thousands of stormtroopers ready at any given time. It is perfectly safe and the Resistance will never be able to destroy it.” 

She wasn’t going to get further and she certainly wasn’t going to ask Hux for a map, if she did he might blow a major fuse by the looks of him. Instead, she opted for teasing him and possibly blowing a minor fuse. “I get what you’re saying, General. I believe your words, I just fear that with a name like StarKiller Base is just… Eh, it’s a little on the nose, isn’t it? I mean, Death Star, StarKiller Base, The First Order, it’s not very creative.” 

His face was reddening but he remained composed. Hux took a threatening step forward. “StarKiller Base is named after one of the strongest Siths in history. Its name is perfectly suited, more than you may understand now. Trust me, Lady Ren, the base lives up to its name once it is complete.”

Sol’s smile faded. Something in his words and the way he said them didn’t sit right with her. It made a cold shiver run down her spine and her heart skip a beat. It hadn’t dawned on her until then, that this was the greatest weapon in the history of the galaxy. Even the Death Star couldn’t compare, and she knew the history of how that went. She wasn’t sure she liked it very much. She didn’t like the First Order, but they were a means to an end. They could give her something she wanted so it was worth the cost, right? 

Kylo came up beside her in time for Hux to fall back. Now, a cruel smirk donned his face, one that made Sol’s stomach twist. 

“I forgot to tell you,” Hux began, malice shining in his eyes. “You’ve been invited to a grand party by Vox himself. It seems there’s this moon ceremony the king wants you to attend. We’re allies after all so I took the liberty to accept the invite on your behalf.”

Sol was stiff as a statue. Still, she managed to catch herself and smile. “It’s a great honour to be invited by the king himself.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be leaving in 3 days time.”

Sol excused herself and made her way out of the command centre, breath caught in her throat, unable to take in larger amounts of air. Her heart had plummeted, a sharp pain piercing through it, while her stomach twisted and turned. Her hands were shaking, she could feel it so she balled them into fists and clenched her jaw in an attempt to keep it from spreading. If she could just get away from prying eyes.

Each step was stiff and it felt as if her body was filled with lead. She moved rigidly through the halls until she spotted the door to her quarters, then each step was sped up until she finally stepped over the threshold where she bolted forth. 

Her knees hit the washroom floor with a bruising impact but she barely noticed it as she was too focused on aiming for the toilet bowl. Sol wretched the content of her stomach, her body giving in to the quivering it had held at bay. Her sharp nails scraped over the seat in an attempt to ground her. 

She hadn’t noticed him come in before his big hands pulled the hair out of the way, gathering it in a controllable tail in one hand. His other hand began to rub circles on her back, much like a parent does a child. He wouldn’t have done it if someone hadn’t done it to him once. 

Another wave came over her and she felt the last content of her stomach leave her, burning through her throat, almost as painful as the tears she tried too hard to keep back. “I am not weak.” 

Sol spat. “ _ I am  _ not  _ weak. _ ” The sleeve of her shirt was used to wipe the spit off her mouth, before she finally turned to him, violently smacking his hands away from her. Her hair fanned out over her shoulders. “Fuck off!” She bit at him, pushing at his chest to make him go away. She couldn’t handle the worry on his face, the tenderness of his touch. He wasn’t supposed to be like this.  _ She wasn’t supposed to be like this _ . 

“Get off of me! Leave!  _ I said Leave _ ,” she screamed at him, pushing at his chest, hitting it trying to reject him. 

Instead of leaving, Kylo managed to avoid the flailing of her arms, lucky not to be punched in the nose, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him. The hits continued for a while, trying to push him away from her, but her heart wasn’t in it. If she wanted to hurt him, she could. Kylo just hugged her tightly. 

“You’re afraid,” Kylo murmured. 

“I’m not!” Sol said, voice trembling just as much as her body. Her chin was pressed against his chest and she could hear his heart drum away, calming almost. “I’m not afraid.  _ I’m not weak _ .” Her voice cracked and turned into a sob. 

Her fingers dug into the fabric of his coat, she clung to him like he was her lifeline. Like she’d disappear if she let go. She didn’t want him to see her like this but it was too late. 

He didn’t say anything, he just held her, one hand caressing the back of her head while the other remained around her. He let her cry. It wasn’t weakness, it was fear. A fear he knew she’d concur. He knew what it was like to be afraid, to feel weak. “We’ll destroy them. All of those who’ve wronged us.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I am **mentally unStaBLE** 
> 
> Anyway, the next 2 chapters I can either make into one LONGASS 3 part chapter where it shifts between past (the slaughter of the Ossan family) and present (Sol navigating Ori as a guest) OR keep it in 2 chapters where One is entirely a flashback to what happened on Ori and afterwards we'll continue where we left off.   
> I could take out the chapter on Ori entirely, but I really don't want to. What do you guys think?
> 
> Also, leave a comment with your thoughts. I'm afraid Im making Kylo too soft, but don't worry, it'll change soon as we near TFA.


	26. The Massacre of Ossan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see Sol’s siblings, see what the ceremony at which her family is massacred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be heavy in blood and gore. There's a lot of death -even death of children and unborn.

Every 6 years Ori’s two moons reach a perfect placement and eclipses the suns. The old becomes new. In ancient times it was celebrated as a blessing from the skies, a way of gods to show good faith in the rulers. Now, it was more of a symbolistic celebration, a way for the royal family to celebrate their people and for the people to celebrate their leaders. It always brought such fuss about. 

Sol hurried through the smaller courtyard to the side, taking the stone steps up into the palace where she hurried along the corridors, the wonders of the palace paid no mind for a girl who’s grown up there. The silver hairpieces shimmered and chimed as the moved in the wind, her skirts hitched up in her hands to keep from tripping over them. She heard the murmurs of her siblings before she saw them. 

“Would the two of you stop fussing, it’s like you’ve never worn traditional clothes before!” I’llya chastised who could only be the youngest set of twins of 12 years. 

Sol rounded the corner and tripped up to them, letting go of her skirts with a huff and flattened the silks with firm pushes of her hands. I’llya was fixing Ji’ia’s bow, while Ji’ia was occupied making faces at her twin I’liso. 

“You’re late,” I’llya scolded Sol. 

“A princess is never late,” Sol cheekily commented, earning a roll of the eyes from her sister and chuckles from the youngins. 

“Apparently, she’s never early either,” Mun cut in, arms folded and a raised brow. His big black eyes were warm as always. He wiggled a finger at her. 

“Why should I be early if I’m never late?”

“Why are you spouting nonsense?” I’llya was done with the twins and instead rubbed her swollen belly. It would be just a month before a new member of the royal family came into the world. 

Before she could answer Kol whistled to get their attention and then said; “They’re coming. Quick, line up!”

Mun was the first in line, the crown prince in his royal purple and gold. His silver hair was tied in a knot on his head, covered with a mesh hat that was pinned to it with a golden hairpin. Around his waist was finely made belt that held up his sword and on his chest a golden dragon. 

Kol’s outfit was much like his brothers, except his colours were silver and blue. On his chest was the embroidery of a phoenix. 

I’llyn wore a dress with gentle hues of green and yellow. Her skirt fanned out around her in thick layers and if she didn’t run her hand over her belly, you’d almost forget she was with child. Her hair was pinned up in elaborate braids with extra hairpieces attached, jewellery fastened and gleaming in all colours. Behind her stood her husband, Captain Le Livere, in an outfit that matched his wife. Of all the children of the King and Queen, she was the only one to have married, not that she didn’t try and pair up her twin Kol at any given time. Much to Kol’s annoyance. 

Ra’on hesitated to pass between I’llyn and Sol, the reminder of where her son used to stand still clear in her mind. Jem was missed, not spoken of much if all, but that didn’t stop them from remembering. 

Sol wore a soft pink dress, with silk flowers and petals embroidered on the fabric. At her side was her sword, crafted just for her, the mother of pearl suited well for pink Sol thought. 

Glancing to the twins beside her, identical in every way from top to toe she smiled. The only way to tell them apart was when they wore different colours. They often used it to their advantage, switching back and forth between roles. The only one to ever see through them was the Queen. 

The King and Queen inspected their children well, the mother always for detailed than the father. Ra’on wore an elaborate dress of white and red silk, far bigger than any of her children, yet she moved swiftly in its many layers. She stopped in front of the youngest twins. “You’ve switched again.”

The twins looked at one another, then back at their mother, a big apologetic grin on their faces. “Sorry, mom.”

“How did you know?” 

Ra’on patted Ji’ia on the cheek. “You cheeky little things. A mother always knows.. Ah, well, it’s too late to change now.”

“You always go easy on them, mom,” I’llya sigh, shaking her head a little. “Kol and I could never get away with the same things they do.”

Ra’on smiled at her daughter and nodded towards her belly. “You’ll know what it’s like when the time comes.”

“This Lunar celebration will be much different,” the King spoke, taking his wife’s hand and stood in front of his children. Everything about him was kingly. His back was straight, always straight, shoulders wide and strong. Time had begun nibbling at his face, the corners of his eyes wrinkled even when he didn’t smile. He still looked strong though. 

“You say that every time, my love,” Ra’on commented. This didn’t deter him though. 

“It will be different!” His tone was now much more dramatic and so were his movements. The twins giggled. “We shall celebrate and smile and be polite. It is no time to start a war over misunderstandings.” It wasn’t much of a speech and it wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to be a reminder, a humourous one, to a thing that could have great consequences. If one of them made a mistake it could be seen as an offence. An offence could grow to something much bigger. 

“And tomorrow when it’s all done, we shall gather just us and have our own little celebration.” 

Both sets of twins cheered and woo’ed. The festivities of the day were long and slow. None of the royal family was to eat before the eclipse had passed, which would be after midday. Drinks were only to be taken when a guest cheered the royal family by sharing a drink. They’d mostly sit, look pretty and act accordingly to things that passed. Nobels and allies would present tithes and gifts, the commoners would be entertained by the splendour and then entertained by exhibitions and performers. 

Sol loved the Lunar celebrations, but between the grandeur, there were periods of pure boredom. Especially when the 19th Nobel presents their gift with a massive monologue. There wouldn’t be much talking until the party in the evening, and then the youngest was sent to bed. 

“Good, then we shall begin.” 

The King and Queen were the first to move out of the palace, hand in hand. Their children followed behind. The sky was painted with hues of purple and gold in the hours of dawn, the air crisp and cool before it’d eventually warm up. The massive palace grounds had been filled with tables for the nobles, each having their own little table on a square rug. Each Nobel would be separated from one another, with his or her family beside them in that square. It was all technical and there were perfect reasons for it, though those reasons had been forgotten by Sol long ago, a lesson gone as soon as it was deemed unimportant. 

Sol eyed her siblings and trotted up to her sister.

“Where’s Allora?”

“She left yesterday.”

“How did she get out of the Lunar ceremony?” If Sol had known it was an option she’d have seriously considered it. She would have gone, of course, but the fact that she might have had a choice was important. 

“How would I know?” I’llyn answered her with a shrug, annoyed by her sister. 

“Because you know everything. You’re the gossip.”

Exasperated I’llyn glared at her sister, voice going up a pitch. “I am  _ not _ .”

“Yes,” Ji’ia began and I’liso finished with, “you are.”

I’llyn looked to her husband, who tried to keep the smile off his face and look serious, his arm around the small of her back, while the other held her hand, leading her down the first flight of stairs towards the mounted dais where the royal family would spend the day on display. 

“I’m sorry, my sword, but you are.” He received a narrow glare. 

“We don’t mean it as a fault,” Sol continued with a chuckle. “It’s a compliment. You’re the keeper of information.”

“The keeper of information,” The twins agreed. 

“And you’re a smooth talker, I don’t mean that as a compliment,” I’llyn said and then sigh. “Dad gave her permission to go. I don’t know what it’s about but it has to be important for her to miss the Lunar celebration. She took her guard and I expect a general, I don't know who.”

“Do you think if I pretend I’m sick mom and dad would let me go back to the palace?” Ji’ia asked. 

Sol and I’llyn looked at one another with a knowing look. “Nope.”

“No, I tried that once, and I was really sick with fever and coughed a lot and I still had to sit through the ceremonies,” I’llyn told. “I spent the whole time holding in my cough so that I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“You also managed to fall asleep through the fireworks,” Sol remembered. 

They reached the dais. The King and Queen were standing by their thrones, elevated higher than their children, with the crown prince being the next highest dais, then came of equal height the rest of the royal family and below them everyone else. 

They found their table and stood beside their chairs, waiting patiently. 

“We welcome you in this Lunar period,” Ra’on voiced loud and clear, small drones and droids flying in the air broadcasting every second. The usual speech ensued, in which Sol turned out and instead focused on each Nobel and their family, noticing a table that was unmanned. 

“I think  General Kihan is with Allora,” Sol whispered to her sister, who continued to smile politely, while her eyes scanned the crowd. 

“Properly, why else wouldn’t he be here.” 

The speech finished and everyone bowed to the King and Queen, who then sat down. After them, the whole gathering followed by promptly sitting down. It was all very mechanical wrapped up in propriety and ancient traditions. It made the whole thing rigged and superficial. Sol liked the after party much better. 

As time went the moons had begun their cycle through the sky towards the suns, slowly but surely moving closer. In that time there had been a whole lot of ass-kissing and masked insults between the nobles. There had been performances, even a proposal. 

Mun stood up and bowed to his parents. “Your filial son has prepared a display of combat for your entertainment mother and father, to show how strong and able I am as the crown prince.” 

The King and Queen nodded in agreement. It was typical of a crown prince or princess to show their combat abilities as a display of strength. Sol had rolled her eyes conversely at his words, feeling just how against the grain they felt. Most of the time everything was said out of a script, which was why this whole day felt so… rigid. It was pretty tough. 

Mun took up a place on the grounds before them, letting his personal guard take off his robe and replace it with something he could move better in. Vox’s son was the ‘opponent’. It wasn’t really a contest with any risk involved, it was more of a performance. They’d fight with dull blades. 

Sol glanced up at the moons. By the time the performance was done the moons would begin their impasse of the suns, blotting out the light. Her stomach growled, one knee bouncing under her skirts almost unnoticeable as she waited for the moment to finally dig into the food. 

Mun traded his sword for the dull one and stepped towards Killian Vox. They bowed towards the King and Queen, then to each other and then fell into their individual combat stance. 

Killian was the first to make a move, swinging his sword after Mun who managed to parry it. The dance had begun. The sounds of metal against metal sounded like music. Mun twirled on the tip of his toes, avoiding the blade, while his robe fluttered around him. He moved like water while Killian moved like the wind. Each was experts in their respected fighting form. 

Sol moved forward to get a better look at them. Even if there were no risk in the fight, it was still a game. Everything was planned, each step, each swing of the sword, but it was also incredibly fascinating. 

Killian stepped aside, avoided Mun’s attack and brought the blade slicing down over his calf. Mun seemed surprised by this, quickly stepping aside and lifted his blade defensively. Killian continued his attack, barring down on Mun from multiple angles that forced him back. Mun tried to keep up and avoided each attack, ending it by ducking backwards under a swing and stumbling to the other side of Killian. 

Sol’s back became straight, her heart hammering in her chest while a frown grew on her face. Something was wrong. There was a blood trail from Mun’s calf down his leg, droplets painting the pale stone red. He was wounded. And by the sounds of the audience, Sol wasn't the only one who noticed. It must have been a mishap, nothing else. 

Killian didn’t let up and when his blade travelled the length of Mun’s back and drew blood the palace square held its breath. Sol pushed herself to stand in utter disbelief. Mun fell to his knees, blood gleaming on Killian’s sword. Before anyone could do anything Killian let the tip of his sword cut through Mun’s throat. 

A tremor went through the audience, Ra’on screaming as she watched her son clutch his neck, blood pouring freely over his hands. Ra’on pushed herself off the dais, sprinting over the blood spattered stone and fell to her knees in front of Mun in time to catch him as he fell. 

“What is the meaning of this?” King Emory roared. The royal guard ran in front of the dais, swords drawn while the palace guard stood with their spears, a barrier between the commoners and the nobles, waiting for orders what to do. 

“Please! Get a medic!” Ra’on cried, looking around distraught, the whites of her dress tainted with the blood of her firstborn. She brushed the hair out of his face and tried to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. Mun choked a few times, eyes filled with terror before they went unfocused. His body relaxed into death. Ra’on screamed a harrowing wail, tears falling like rain on her dead child. 

“This is treason, Vox!” Emory spat at the Vox family who’s own guard had drawn weapons. 

“What is treason is your inability to lead Ori,” Tarlan Vox declared, hand on the hilt of his sword, a promise to be fulfilled. “The galactic empire was our chance to expand our domain and you squandered it with your supposed ‘neutrality’ while funding the resistance. We are a warrior nation, war is in our blood, we’re meant to concur, not huddled in the corner holding our skirts while opportunity passes us.”

“War only ever benefits those who can afford it. It would cost millions of  _ my _ subjects to perish, the cost is much higher than the reward!” Emory boomed back, his anger leaking from every pore in his body. 

“That is where you’re wrong. It is time for new leadership. Our nation could be infused with riches if you just let it. Too long we have been led by weakness. The nation is only as strong as it’s leadership.”

“Your treason will be paid in blood.”

Tarlan Vox grinned. “Your blood.” 

A shift went through the palace square, nobles turned against the crown and their guard followed suit. Every other palace guard turned against their own, managing to cut down their brothers and sisters as they were caught by surprise.    
Kol jumped down from the dais and ran to his mother with his sword drawn to protect her. He never reached her. Two arrows shot through the air, silent and precise, their metal heads burrowing into flesh and bone all the same. One hit him in the chest, right through the heart, while the other followed the first right below his ribs. He looked so surprised as he fell. 

I’llyn screamed at the sight of her twin falling in battle, gripping Sol’s harm violently to hold her up while she clutched her stomach. Dominic Le Livere shielded his wife, urging her to back up and away as the princesses personal guard rushed forward brandishing their weapons, two of them promptly wrapping an arm around the younger twins to carry them off despite their screams to stay. 

Sol was pulled along by her sister, stumbling in the fabrics of her dress as they made their way over palace square. At the doors into the palace, Sol paused, ears catching the turmoil of battle behind her. Her heart drummed in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. 

“What are you doing? We have to go!” I’llyn begged, makeup ruined by tears. 

It was more stupidity, an idealised thought of bravery, than anything else that made Sol take the decision she did. She shook her head and stepped back, pulling her wrist to her. “I’ll be right behind you-,”

“Are you insane? What is wrong with you? We have to go now,” Dominic yelled at her, grabbing her arm forcefully to pull her along. Sol hit him square in the chest forcing a breath out of him that made him cough. 

“I am ordering you to go,” Sol commanded. 

“And I’m ordering you to come along, now!” I’llyn ordered right back. “I am your elder, I rank over you.”

“I have to get mom and dad,” Sol explained in haste, turning on her heels to run back. Behind her, I’llyn screamed at her to come back but was pulled along by her husband. Three guards followed her towards the battle, only stopping to hide behind a column at the sides, where Sol efficiently ripped at her dress tearing it off of her, kicking the pretty but impractical shoes off, before pulling at the hairpieces, ripping them out along with her own hair. When she was satisfied, then unsheathed her sword and ran towards the battle. 

It was a bloodbath. Nobles turned against nobles. Brother in arms against brother in arms. It seemed more had joined in on the fighting, commoners shooting blasters and wielding weapons she wasn’t quite familiar with. And at the forefront middle were her mother and father fighting together. 

Sol paid little mind to the first man she killed nor the second or third. Each clash of her sword sends reverberations up her arms to the point she clenched her jaw to make sure her teeth wouldn’t clatter. She lost a sock at some point, not that it made a difference since her feet were sticky with blood. There was no elegance in this kind of battle, or maybe there were but she couldn’t fully perceive it. 

Something exploded, the blast sending Sol flying through the air to land roughly on the stone floor. Her head cracked against it, making small dots dance in her vision. All noise was drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She blinked slowly and rolled her head to the side watching the world move in slow motion. 

Emory’s sword clashed against Tarlans, each blow with reviding force that’d have knocked the sword out of hand had he not been an experienced swordsman. Emory moved like the wind, constantly switching attacks, while Tarlan remained an unmovable mountain. 

“If only you had heeded my council, your highness,” Vox hissed at his king. 

“If I had heeded your council we would have had us fall with the Empire!” Emory argued firmly, his delicate features twisted in rage. Small dark strands of his hair escaped the otherwise well-kempt bun, falling against his neck and sticking to his forehead. “Ra’on and I were unanimous in this.”

Tarlan scoffed. “You keep us in the dark ages, we could be out here in the galaxy, have an impact on history, we could  _ thrive _ but you’re too weak to make that decision! We could be one of the wealthiest nations in the galaxy but you refuse to take that step.”

“So this is about money and fame?”

“This is about power. You just have to be willing to  _ take  _ it,” Tarlan snarled, then let out a cynical laugh. “You did it once before, you  _ took _ power,  _ you took what was rightfully mine _ .”

“Ra’on was never yours.” Their blades clashed in a deadlock, both trying to overpower the other, sweat running down over their faces. Emory was so focused on Tarlan that he didn’t notice a guard sneaking up behind him before the spear was buried in his lower back, forcing the king to his knees in shock. The guard held him thereby forcing the spear down. 

“You have no honour,” Emory gasped, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

Tarlan seemed angry with the intrusion of his guard. He stepped past Emory and cut his guard down where he stood. “You don’t get to die by the hand of some guard.” 

Tarlan faced the king again, the tip of his word placed above his heart. The king looked him directly in the face, not a trace of fear upon his face but rather defiant acceptance. The sword sank into his flesh, running his body all the way through so that it came out on the other side with a new coat of blood. Emory gripped Tarlans wrist and drew him closer. “This will not end well for you. You will be a terrible leader.”

A muscle jumped in Tarlan’s face, his lips twisted in an angry snarl. He pushed the king from him, withdrawing his sword violently, letting the dying king fall to the bloodied ground, eyes unfocusing. He made the mistake of lowering his guard. 

Ra’on screamed for her husband, the tip of her sword catching Tarlan across the face, drawing a biting red line from his ear, over his cheek and nose, ending on the other side of his face. Tarlan stumbled back, hand covering his face. His nose was hanging on but barely. 

“You should have accepted my proposal,” Tarlan spoke through his hands, blood creeping between his fingers. 

“You should have won,” was all Ra’on had to say. She was surrounded by the enemy. If she had to die she’d take as many of them with her as she could. After having cut down five of them she was out of breath and losing energy. A scream of anger and frustration, of sorrow and pain, tore through her throat, paused by an arrow burrowing into her shoulder, sent flying by Tarlan’s firstborn son. Tarlan patted his son on the back while still holding his face. 

The queen fell, gasping for air and clawing her way over the stone towards her husband, tears in her eyes. She reached for him but never made it. Instead, she died reaching. 

Sol was dazed when she got up, disoriented and that ringing presided, still drowning out the turmoil around her. She wasn’t sure what to do now. Her parents were dead and the kingdom was on fire. Her mind didn’t know what to do but it seemed her body did, for it began walking, then sprinting. The chaos continues around her, a blur. How she made it past the fighting she wasn’t sure, at times it seemed that people had moved on their own, pulled back or stumbled by an invisible force. 

She entered the palace and ran through the halls. Every time she turned a corner, her feet slipped on the smooth floor and she almost fell. She turned another corner and sprinted down the long hall towards the outside courtyard, a small garden that’ll lead to the lower palace and then the informal landing pad. 

Something caught her foot and she tried to brace herself against the wall, but her nails scraped over the tapestry as she fell face first to the wooden planks. The sword clattered over the floor and stopped a few feet ahead of her. Groaning she rolled her head to the side and blinked, not entirely sure what she saw. Dark eyes were looking back at her, empty of any emotion, just staring. Silver hair lay sprawled out around her, the gold pieces hanging limply and unceremoniously in a way that was unrespectable. 

Then Sol’s eye caught the arrow in her chest, then another just below it and then another two in the stomach. There were more arrows on the man beside the woman, his face turned away and buried, one arm slung protectively over the silk-wrapped woman. His back was full of arrows. 

Sol felt a sob in her throat and pushed up from the floor. She was surrounded by bodies. Two of them, she knew very well. She gasped for air, nails scraping over the floor as she balled them into fists, hot tears threatening to spill and then she heard it. A cry. The sound of fighting. Ji’ia and I’liso. 

Sorrow turned to an adrenaline-fueled anger. She picked up her sword and began advancing towards the sounds, each step becoming more hurried until she was against sprinting. There, in the opening out into the courtyard, stood a man in full armour with a spear at hand, jeering at the fighting going on inside the courtyard as if it was some form of entertainment. 

Sol didn’t slow down but rather speed up. Before the guard could turn towards the sounds of her steps, she hand-thrown herself at him, his body jerking moments before she collided with him as if he had been tugged by nothing. They tumbled to the ground in a disgraceful heap of arms and legs, one her parents would have been disappointed in. But that didn’t matter now. This was war, this was kill or be killed. Grace was a luxury. 

The guard yelped out of breath and Sol made quick work of him, slicing his throat to the bone. She got up and surveyed the fighting before her. Three guards were trying to kill Ji’ia, her small hands waving her sword threateningly, tears streaming down her terrified face. Behind her sat I’liso with a spear through his chest, slack like a ragdoll pilled to a tree. 

Sol didn’t wait for a second longer and attacked, veering off the enemy. A sword caught the side of her arm and Sol made the slightest of peeping sounds in surprise, stepping back before avoiding another slash. She ducked under the sword and drew her own through him with a growl, pulling it out roughly before deflecting another blow of another guard. This one she kicked in the chest, making him stumble back. She took this opportunity to slash both his legs, letting him fall to his knees before driving the sword through his neck. 

There were a cry and a bloodcurdling gurgling sound. Sol cut the last guard down by sneaking her sword past his armour below his armpit, the sword cutting through the fabric and into his flesh. With a rough tug, she pulled him away from Ji’ia who remained standing, clawing at her neck trying to keep the blood from pouring out. 

Sol caught her sister as she began to fall, holding the smaller girl to her and trying to stop the bleeding with her hands. Ji’ia coughed, blood running down the corners of her lips, splattering on Sol’s skin. Tears began to drip down on Ji’ia’s all too pale face, Sol letting out a shrivelled sob, looking around for help and finding none. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were kids. Children. 

The pure terror in Ji’ia’s eyes was the worst of it, opened wide and bloodshot, tears gleaming in them. And then they went still. The convulsing in her body stopped and Sol through the worst had been the look in her eyes but what was worse still was when it all stopped. Her sister's body was slack in her arms and Sol hugged her to her chest, her tears falling freely. She rocked the body back and forth as she had done when she had been just a baby. 

It was uncertain how much time had passed before they found her. A mixed group of people led by Captain Yung. Some of them were guards in his detail, while others seemed like random people. Their weapons were just as mixed swords, spears and blasters of all kinds. Not that Sol noticed any of that. 

“Is he dead?” Yung asked one of his followers. The hooded female knelt down and took the pulse of I’liso. She nodded. 

“We have to get her out of here,” One voice urged. 

“Vox’s little friends will bring reinforcements soon, they won’t let anyone leave the planet,” Another added to the urging. 

Sol felt hands on her shoulders and she jumped at the touch. A soft and sympathetic voice spoke. “You have to let her go, she's dead.”

Sol furrowed her brows at the voice, clutching her sister's body all the more firmly. How could anyone ask that of her? Couldn’t they understand that this was her sister, she was the last one she had seen alive. She couldn’t let her go. It wouldn’t be right. 

“She’s in shock,” the voice spoke again. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Captain Yung stressed, pushing the calming touch away from Sol and replacing it with his own urging one. He tugged at her while another manoeuvred the body from her arms, closing the child's eyes with gentle fingers. Sol was yanked to her feet. 

“Look at me,” Captain Yung ordered but when she didn't focus her eyes on him, he grabbed the sides of her head and held her in place. “Look at me, Sol!” 

Sol’s eyes blinked into focus, connecting with uncanny blue eyes filled with persistence and will. Every time her eyes began to drift away he caught them again, making sure she was looking directly at him when he spoke. “You’re the last of your bloodline. We have to get you out of here.” 

Her eyes drifted. “Hey! Look at me, Sol.” Her eyes returned to him. 

“You have to survive no matter what,” His voice was adamant and rough. “You have to survive, do you understand? No matter what.”

Sol nodded. 

“Say it. I need you to say it,” he shook her lightly, making sure she was present with him. Sol furrowed her eyebrows and focused. 

“I have to survive. No matter what.” 

“Yes, good girl,” Yung praised. “Jenni and Kovu, take the rear. Constance, do we have a ship coming?” He called that last part over a radio. 

“We’re landing on the grounds in a minute, we have to be fast,” Constance answered over the radio. Everyone seemed to know what to do except Sol. Yung kept a tight hold on her wrist and pulled her along with him while his blaster was ready in the other hand. His sword was gone, Sol noted and then realised she had left her own with Ji’ia. It didn’t matter, was what she was told when she bought it up and she didn’t have it in her to fight. Subdued she followed them, the surroundings moving in a slow fractured blur. 

When they got to the landing pad, there was a small merchant ship there, one that certainly wasn’t Orian. It was dinged and designed bulky, but as long as it flew its appearance didn’t matter. Sol was guided up the ramp and into the ship, where she was let go of just outside the cockpit. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. 

“Captain, we're taking heavy fire, we need assistance,” a voice yelled from outside the ship. Yung cursed and then ordered the ship to leave without them, ensuring that the two pilots understood their mission and then left. 

It took some time before she realised that they had left Ori and managed to get out before those ‘damned bastards’ as the pilot called them, arrived. The pilots didn’t speak to her, they barely acknowledged that she was there, they just let her sit there staring out into the empty space before her. 

The blood on her hands was drying and becoming itchy, flaking off of her skin. She was freezing she noticed, her whole body shaking, teeth clattering together. She was cold to the bones, unsure if she’d ever get warm again. Her body was aching and hurting, her head the most and she was so goddamn tired. There were no tears in her eyes, they had all been spilt, instead, they were left dry and dead. The thoughts in her head were jumbled into one big mess, when one thought began it was left in favour for another through that wasn’t finished either. She tried to find heads and tails in what she was feeling but found none. Instead, she was left switching between past and present. 

Sol jumped when a blanket was carefully wrapped around her form, eyes darting to a concerned woman with a mouse-like appearance. She smiled comfortingly at Sol. 

“Have you heard anything about my sister? A-about Allora?” Her voice quivered as she spoke, throat dry and mouth sticky.

Pity formed on the woman's face. “No.”

“She’s dead then. Vox would have had a contingency plan, he wouldn’t let any of us survive and he had many nobles with him.”

“We haven’t head anything, that could be good,” the woman tried but Sol shook her head. 

“She’s dead.”

“You’re alive,” the woman offered. 

Sol looked her directly in the eyes with a weak smile. “But for how long? It doesn’t matter, I’m already dead.” 

“We’re taking you somewhere safe,” the woman confided in her, though she found only scepticism. Sol hugged the blanket close to her, still feeling colder than she’d ever been. 

“Nowhere is safe.”

The woman sigh in defeat, understanding that at this moment Sol saw nothing but hopelessness and grief. “Here’s a pile of clothes and there’s a washroom in the room beside you.”

The woman left her. Sol remained sitting there trying to stitch herself back together. She was the only one left. The remainder of a bloodline.  _ You have to survive, no matter the cost. You must survive. _ The words echoed inside of her head and sparked a defiant fury in her.  _ I will survive. And I’ll make sure Vox pays the price. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me 2 weeks to make, why? Because the inspiration wasn't there. I knew what needed to be written, I was just... unable to write it. And it's a long chapter so it would naturally take more time. The next chapter will also take around 2 weeks ca. because it's also a long chapter, but I look forward to Sol's return to Ori. There's a lot of people we've only heard about returning next chapter. 
> 
> This chapter also sets up a big plot point that will properly be there in... 3 chapters time. And also, you should wonder who these 'friends' of Vox is :) 
> 
> Anyway, drop a comment, because comments is what keeps me going and I love to hear your thoughts, theories and point of view.


	27. King of Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been long in waiting I know. 
> 
> Sol and Kylo arrive at Ori. King Tarlan is not happy.

Sol awoke covered in sweat, jolting to sit up in bed as nausea ripped through her. She threw her legs out over the side of the bed and hunched forward, resting her head in her hands. Behind her closed eyes ravaged the nightmare that awoke her so roughly. She wasn’t sure which nightmare she hated the most. The ones where she relives the death of her family so brutally slaughtered or the ones where she’s with the Lady in Red doing things she had no other choice than to do. Sometimes she still felt their touch linger even after she woke up. 

She breathed in through her nose and let out the air through her lips, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. There was a hope inside of her that when she finally faced Vox again she’d be able to rid herself of these nightmares. A hope, a prayer. 

The low hum and motion of the ship lulled her tense muscles to relax, even just a little. Sol didn’t notice she had woken Kylo before a large hand pressed against her back and a sleepy voice mumbled, “Come back to bed, we have 30 minutes before we have to get up.” 

Sol looked over her shoulder and watched her husband in the dim light. They had a tendency to unintentionally wake each other with their nightmares. Kylo’s eyes were small, his hair curling around his head and over his face. “I might as well get up, I have lots to do before we arrive and it’ll take two hours at least to get ready.” 

“I think you’d do better with beauty sleep,” Kylo grumbled. 

“I’m sorry but I don’t take advice from someone who wears a helmet everywhere he goes,” Sol bickered back with an upwards turn to her lips. 

Kylo grumbled something intelligible into his pillow and fell to sleep again, softly snoring. Sol sighs and gets up. 

Three hours was the time spent on getting ready when it came to Sol. Small hovering drones helped her with her hair, combing it, pinning it, placing it in an elaborate and intricate display with multiple added hairpieces and jewellery. The makeup took long as well, winging her eyes the way that made her look sharp and sultry, upper lip painted in scarlet while the bottom matched more the colour of her skin with a hint of red. Then came the dress. 

For a while, she thought about wearing all white, with minimal makeup and no jewellery, a display of sorrow and mourning to show that she had not forgotten and she still felt the loss. But then again, choosing such a display could easily work against her favour. Vox would twist the knife and openly state that it was false, how could she still mourn when she so easily sold her body and disgraced them. 

So instead, she went with a little more flair. Her dress was a mix of traditional Ori and modern, with reds and whites reminiscent of the dress her mother had worn on that fateful day. 

“And you say my neck must be strong,” Kylo teased upon seeing her, eyes scaling her up and down. Sol couldn’t help but smile. 

“You must suffer for fashion,” she answered him with a wave and a shrug. It was true, the headpiece was heavy and she could feel the muscles in her neck straining to keep her movements elegant and smooth. There was no doubt that she’d be sore tomorrow. 

“Are you ready?”

Sol smiled at him, feeling more comfortable now that her armour was on, a mask of makeup, the dress a shield. “Ready.”

The ship landed. Wife and husband descended the ramp together, one in all black, wearing a mask and the other in fine colours, wearing a mask of her own. What met them was an almost empty lot, the red walls of the landing pad shielding them from the public. There was an entourage welcoming them with stiff faces and hard eyes. There were a lot Sol had expected, but this emptiness wasn’t one of them. 

“We welcome you, Kylo Ren and Lady Ren,” an unfamiliar Captain greeted, the colourful beads on his chest by his heart, showing his rank and accomplishments. Sol held back her deepening frown. 

“Why have we landed on the far side of the city?” She questioned. 

“I’m afraid it was the only landing pad available, my lady.” It was a feeble excuse. Her eyes landed on the pram-like speeder hovering above the tiles of the landing pad and Sol immediately recognized why they were made to land there. She breathed in through her nose and managed a smile. 

Vox would have her paraded through the city like some enemy capture. He would undoubtedly have spread every vile truth and every bright lie. Would they welcome her home or would the people turn their back on her? Would they look at her with damnation and shame?

Did their love matter? 

She was the last descendant of Ossan, the last of her bloodline, the throne was her birthright. Vox destroyed everything but she wouldn’t let him destroy her too. Love, hatred, it didn’t matter. The throne was hers to claim and she  _ would _ claim it. 

With polite words, the pair stepped onto the pram and let the guards follow them out into the streets were people stood looking behind a wall of guards making sure the road was empty. People pressed on each other to get a better look at the lost princess and Sol held herself high, with a grace and elegance her mother had wished upon her long ago. Beside her stood Kylo, dark and gloomy, a spectacle at his mere appearance, so foreign and more importantly foreboding. His reputation precedes him and his appearance wasn’t welcome. There was no softness between them in this public scene. 

Sol watched the crowd, feeling a strain within her heart at their expressions. It seemed that poverty reigned now, 6 years and the prosperous lower class had fallen into direct poverty. It was hard to comprehend how quickly it had gone. Their sullen faces watched her, some with a disdain that was hard to discount and others with hopelessness.  _ Hope _ was a fickle thing, most dangerous, even among the hopeless. 

“They’re wary of me,” Sol said in a low tone only Kylo could hear. “They’ve come to watch the spectacle of the lost, dishonoured princess. Vox has undoubtedly spread propaganda.

“They don’t love me.”

“They don’t have to love you,” Kylo answered. “You can rule without love.”

Her lips turned into a line as she breathed in through her nose. She didn’t need their love, but she’d like to be loved. However frivolous and varying it may be. 

The parade continued until suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, a figure was pushed between the guards, stumbling forward and into the direction of the parade. A boy fell to his hands and knees, panicked and fearful look upon his face. The pram stopped. Kylo stood nailed to the floor, not even noting the slight jolt of the sudden stop, while Sol had to brace herself and take a step forward. The guard captain grabbed the boy by his arm and roughly pulled him up only to backhand him across the face and send him tumbling to the ground again. 

“You dare to interrupt us!” He yelled continuing on a rampage about disrespect. 

Sol stepped down from the pram, hoisting up her skirts and made her way towards the yelling. The boy’s grandmother had come forward, wrapping her frail arms around the crying child, begging for mercy as the captain unsheathed his sword and held it up to cut them down. 

She stopped the swords desent with a firm grip on the captain's wrist, the many jewels in her hair chiming at the motion. “Enough!”

“This crime has to be punished, you will let go of me.” He ripped his wrist from her and went to cut them down. Sol stopped him once more, grabbing his wrist, wrenching the sword out of his hand and kicking the back of his knees so that he fell to them. His sword was promptly placed by his neck, ready to cut it open as she will it. 

“You want to punish an accident with no victims?” Her voice was levelled but loud. Everyone would hear her speak. Small drones flew in the air, capturing everything to broadcast out into the world. It wasn’t all for show, Sol was genuinely angry. 

“You want to know what  _ is _ a crime? Not listening to the commands of a superior. I am princess Sol Ossan, I am a guest of King Vox, and I ordered you to stop and yet you disobeyed. I believe that is a punishable crime.”

Sol dropped the sword and made her way towards the boy and his grandmother. Sympathy painted her features and bent down to level with the two. “I apologize for any unrest.”

The grandmother looked at Sol for a moment, a wrinkled old hand reaching up to brush against Sol’s cheek with the softest of touches. “Ra’on you’ve returned.” 

Sol grabbed the hand of the old lady, holding it between her own with a pained look on her face. Maybe this was too big of a reminder of her mother. 

“That’s not the queen, grandmama,” the boy whispered to her, his eyes filled with apology. 

The old lady frowned in confusion. “Little Allora then, that child escaped.”

Sol smiled sadly. “My sister didn’t escape, I am Sol.”

“Sol?” The old lady leaned in to whisper. “You must have been so afraid.” 

“I’m sorry, my grandmama isn’t always here.” 

“It’s fine,” Sol said and grabbed the child's hand. His eyes grew at the feeling of a ring pressed into the palm of his hand, holding it tightly within his grip. Sol smiled at him. “Make sure you use it wisely.” 

The boy nodded and then motioned for her to move closer. Sol did, letting the boy come close to her ear, his little voice whispering barely loud enough to hear. “We have been waiting for you.” 

Sol withdrew with raised eyebrows, surprised by his words. The boy grabbed the hand of his grandmother and pulled her towards the crowd that had gone immensely quiet. All eyes were on her. She breathed in and let the mask fall into place once more. 

“Captain, we best not be late,” She said sternly and walked towards the pram, giving the captain a threatening look. “It won't do you well if we are.”

Kylo held out his hand for her to take, helping her step up onto the pram again now that there was no longer a stepping stool. Sol slightly regretted the heavy attire at that moment, the elegance not quite there. As soon as she was up Kylo’s hand dropped hers and they took up their previous positions. 

“ _ How fortunate that happened _ ,” Kylo voiced quietly. Sol glanced up at him, then returned her eyes forward with a smirk on her lips. How fortunate indeed. The thought wouldn’t have crossed her mind unless he said anything, but now she knew it was no coincidence and much less luck. 

“You’re more conniving than I thought.” Sol was a lot more than impressed. 

They arrived at the inner palace without further incidents. The walls remained red as they had been that day, Sol thought they seemed paler, like all the colours she remembered had paled in the suns. A red carpet was rolled out leading up to the dais where the King sat on his throne, every table along the red carpet was filled with Nobels, old as well as new, all glaring at them as they made their way towards the throne. 

Everything was extravagant, more so than usual with lots of gold to symbolise prosperity, even as the poor outside the gate stood hungry in the streets. 

‘Water flows from the mountain and divides into smaller streams in the valley’ a proverb about riches flowing like water from the tallest of mountains, Nobles and Royals, to the smallfolk of the valley. By the looks of it, the Nobles had stopped that stream of wealth to circle back to themselves. Not even in a way that’d keep the smallfolk fed and happy. 

Tarlan Vox sat upon his throne of golds and jewels, with a mighty fine crown on his head and rich silk around his body. His hair had greyed, slivers of aged silver shining in the otherwise dark. 

Beside him was the queen, though noticeably she was levelled beneath him. A queen in title and position but without any political say. Sol wasn’t sure who hated her more, the Nobles, the king or the queen. 

They reached the end of the line. 

Sol bowed deeply, hands clasp and held up in front of her, neck bent. Silence had fallen over the courtyard. Awaiting the king's approval, Sol began to feel the weight of her attire on her thighs, trembling slightly. 

“We welcome you home, Lady Ren,” The king greeted with a booming voice that was heavy with scrutiny. In logic you couldn’t really blame him, a lost princess returning as a possible contender to his throne wasn’t any ruler's dream. Sol felt slightly satisfied by it. 

Her head rose again, eyes meeting the kings with no hesitation. His eyes increased in intensity, narrowing them further. The scar across his face was prevalent. 

“You honour us with your invitation, King Tarlan,” Sol spoke. 

“We couldn’t deny you this opportunity of your return home.” Tarlan’s voice was sharp and controlled. If the eyes of Ori wasn’t upon him, he’d have greeted her less pleasantly. His eyes went to Kylo, dismissing Sol entirely. 

“Kylo Ren, why don't we share a glass for our prosperous friendship?” Tarlan held up a small porcelain cup rimmed with gold. A servant scuttered forth, head held low as he presented a tray with a singular cup on it for Kylo to take. Kylo didn’t respond. 

Sol felt her heart drum in her chest. Denying the gesture was a grievous decision. Not only would the king be offended and in all his power be able to punish them, but the people would see it as a slight, a fault that’d reflect badly on their union and more importantly her. Sol also knew that Tarlan wished to know what was under the helmet and Kylo wasn’t about to remove it. 

“Forgive my husband he doesn’t know the Orian traditions,” Sol spoke, taking the small cup of clear liquid in her hand. Kylo’s helmet turned towards her concerned but not objecting. Sol smiled softly. “Let me share the glass on my husband's behalf.”

Tarlan breathed deeply considering the option of denying her but then decided against it, nodding slightly, with a begrudging admiration. 

“To King Tarlan and his reign, may you bring justice to your kingdom,” Sol held up the glass, then brought it to her lips, using her other hand to shield the act of drinking from the King, as custom. The clear liquid burned her tongue and throat but she swallowed a cough and waited for the sweet after taste. 

“And may you find peace in the position you’re in.” The king drank openly, then set the cup down on his table with a clatter. Sol smiled stiffly. 

After this, the queen asked them to sit down. Sol and Kylo joined at a table to the King and Queen’s left, right in their line of sight. There was enough distance between them that Kylo and Sol could speak openly, but there were ears everywhere, some loyal to the crown while others were not. 

They were served small plates with traditional foods while dancers performed in the middle of the square for entertainment. 

“I should have properly been more careful,” Sol voiced slowly. “I wouldn’t put it above them to poison the wine.”

“He wouldn’t have poisoned you,” Kylo answered, his voice a low distorted hum. Sol glanced at him.

“There would have been too many witnesses and it would have been considered dishonourable. Killing you, now, would mean he’s afraid and he can’t be seen as afraid.”

“Dishonorable,” Sol muttered angrily, trying to smooth the puffiness of her skirt out. “Killing my family like that was dishonourable.”

“Less dishonourable than poisoning them. He wants to be seen as a symbol of strength, of hard choices,  _ that he did the right thing _ . They died in battle, mercy in his opinion.” Sol stared at Kylo slightly put off by how well he was reading Tarlan. She knew he was right but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Underneath the table, she felt his hand squeeze her leg in comfort before it returned to his lap. 

“If it wasn’t because it’d wouldn’t be going against the Supreme Leader and reflects poorly on you, I would have cut him down where he stood,” Kylo promised. “He’s a pathetic, weak man.”

“Don’t underestimate him, he knows how to play the game,” Sol told. Whether she liked it or not, she had to face the fact that Tarlan knew how to play the game, how to manipulate and move pieces. He’d been a revered general for years, one that had studied battles and old predicaments. He had been a good general to have up until he saw himself on the throne. It wasn’t easy being king. Regardless of if he cared for his people, he knew that he needed them. What is a king without folk to rule? No king at all. 

“It seems like you’ve bewitched his son,” Kylo muttered, eyes remaining on the performance before him. He didn’t have to look to know that. 

Sol glanced up towards the royal and found that most of them kept glancing her way, half of them waiting, hoping, that she’d cause a scene. Some of them looked in disbelief, others with pure hatred. And then there was Killian. 

Killian looked at her unabashedly, like he’s always done, though his gaze used to wander to her other sisters, more specifically Allora. Their eyes met and he smiled at her, nodded in greeting and lifted a glass. Sol returned the nod and took a sip before turning her eyes back at the performance. 

The dancers had made a circle and danced in tandrum, silks flying through the air like wings of a bird. They danced like the wind, soft and smooth. 

She could feel his eyes remain on her, prickling over her skin, like a weight pushing down on her shoulders. Once she might have considered it flattering, something she wanted. That was before he murdered her brother right in front of her eyes. 

“He’s always wanted more than he can have.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you've waited long for this chapter, trust me I know. About 4 weeks ago my part of Denmark was shut down completely and that meant I had to move to my moms' place for 4 weeks so that she could move to her work palace so she could go to work. I had to look after the cat. Those 4 weeks I just didn't have any inspiration despite having the time. I find it hard to write right now. 
> 
> But I hope you'll stick with me through this slump. Christmas will be tough since there's always so much to do, but I hope to start writing regularly again in the new year, with a few instances before Christmas. 
> 
> Tell me what you think. What are your theories? 
> 
> And a sneak peek of the next chapter summary; The ceremony is over and the evening party exhumes. Sol will be facing her enemies head-on and one of her biggest fears comes with a smile on their face. Some pov change to Kylo. Things will slowly begin to crumble for Sol and uncertainty sets in. Title of the chapter; The Red Lady


	28. Part II: King of Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol talks with Killian and Tarlan Vox. It doesn't go well and she is at a breaking point.

Sol’s childhood rooms stood as they had been as she had left them. The queen had ordered the servants to move Sol’s chests and luggage to the rooms with a sweetly poisonous smile on her face and words said equally sweetly poisonous. “We’ve prepared your old rooms for you so that you don't have to go back and forth to the ship. It’d be nice to sleep in your own bed.” 

Sol had taken it with a smile. A smile that left her face in the confines of her old rooms. There was a lot she had expected, this hadn’t been one of them. As soon as the doors were closed and locked behind them, stormtroopers guarding the outsides, Kylo had helped her out of her garments quietly. He didn’t have to read her mind to know she was processing it all. 

“Do you think they left it as a time capsule or did they have it decorated to me exactly as it was?”

“They thought you dead, why would they leave it as a time capsule,” Kylo had answered. Sol made a grimace that meant she agreed. 

As she prepared for the party, Kylo wandered the quarters looking at her things. It was well-kept room for a teenager. A lot of the things throughout the quarters were decorative and ancient. There wasn’t much that was different from guest quarters with the exception that these things were a lot more expensive and irreplaceable. Kylo remembered his own old quarters wherever his mother worked. There wasn’t a lot of space for making things personal. The only rooms that had been  _ his _ had been where he had spent his first years and on the Millenium Falcon. It had been confining everywhere else. His but not entirely his. He wondered if Sol felt confined. 

He quirked a brow at the vase hidden behind a plant obviously broken and glued together. There were also small scribbles on the walls behind some other plants. Behind her books were her stash of things he guessed she wasn’t supposed to have and behind a chair, he found her old embroidery work. It was fine work, not perfect and not exactly enthusiastic, passable at best. 

There were a lot of secret things in her quarters, small acts of defiance. 

“Would you stop digging through my things,” Sol quipped, snatching a holopod out of Kylo’s hands. He had caught the glimpse of a girl, one that winked at him. 

“How would you like it if I dug through your childhood things?” 

“I doubt I have any left,” Kylo shrugged. Sol looked at him. 

“How do I look?” Kylo looked her up and down. Her hair was now down in wavy strands falling on her back, with small purple stones drizzled throughout the silver strands. The big heavy dress was replaced by a dark purple one that hugged her body, revealing much more skin than the other. She wore a simple silver necklace, simple earrings that matched, with small purple stones in them. Her upper lip was also purple. 

“You don’t need me to tell you,” Kylo told, with a slight upward turn to his lips. 

“You’re right, I don't, I just like it when you call me pretty things.”

“You look beautiful.”

Sol pouted. “I was going for formidable, but I suppose I can work with beautiful.”

Kylo rolled his eyes. 

Before they left for the party, Sol managed to decorate Kylo just a bit, with a silver pin on his chest with the same purple stone she wore. Not that anyone would see it, she’d grumbled, not with the cape over his shoulders. 

The grand hall was decked out in finery. The walls were decorated with new tapestries, the columns had been painted in gold, and from the ceiling hung hundreds of lanterns lighting up the colourful ceiling above, giving an illusion of the evening sky. And there, on a dais, was the throne. It was no longer carved wood with swirls of gold and simple embroidery pillows but was instead a grand thing, the back of it reaching towards the ceiling, fanning out in gold towers. It would have been pretty if you turned your head and closed your eyes. The style was off from the rest of the palace. And the fact that the throne for the queen was steps below the kings, smaller and less decorated, was preposterous. 

“By the stars,” Sol muttered under her breath. At least Snoke's throne fit the style of the First Order.

At first, people were wary of the pair, unsure whether they could approach or not. Not just because Kylo warded them off with the energy he exhumed, but because they were afraid the King would take it as a betrayal. But soon their wariness was overruled by their curiosity. 

Kylo left her side once the fifth person stopped their approach throughout the room. He wasn’t exactly the most chatty person and every single fake smile made him want to reach for his lightsaber. He hated these things, vehemently. The only solace he found was watching Sol from afar. 

Sol welcomed the fake smiles and welcoming words. She found entertainment in the small talk, not that she was oblivious to the fact that most of them stood and watched as her family was slaughtered. She didn’t forget, she didn’t forgive but she did understand. 

The one thing she didn’t welcome was the crown prince's approach. Everyone she was speaking to dispersed, leaving her alone in the company of Killian. 

“How lovely it is to see you again,” Killian greeted. 

“Wish I could say the same,” Sol answered with mild hatred. 

“Oh let bygones be bygones. It’s all in the past now, no need to dredge it up again. I was merely a filial son.” 

“There’s a difference between being a filial son and murdering the crown prince in a performance fight with a blunt sword to protect himself. Were you afraid you’d lose if you were on equal ground?” The shine in Killian's eyes was sharp. Her words entertained him. He was being overconfident, secure and beyond reckless. 

“I gave him a good death,” Killian said, holding out his hand for Sol to take. She looked at it for a moment, breathing deeply to steel herself before taking it, letting him draw her to the dance floor. Over his shoulder, Sol saw Kylo. She shook her head slightly as a sign that told him not to intervene. 

“You know, our soldiers had orders not to kill any of the princesses,” Killian told her, voice low and for her to hear only. He was trying to hurt her, perhaps then she’d cause a scene they could use against her. Sol remained unflinching. His hands snaked around her waist, the other holding hers tightly. 

“Of course, I’llyn was expendable. She was married and pregnant. Ji’ia was young, she could have married one of my younger brothers. Allora was the most important. We had to change the plans when she decided to fly off somewhere, so that left you.

“I’ve always been quite fond of you. You got a fire in you.” He smiled at her and she looked pointedly at him. 

“I’m afraid that fire would have consumed you,” Sol countered. 

“My father once asked your father for your hand in marriage. He had hoped he could join the two families together and make us stronger. If he couldn’t get the first princess he had to settle for the fourth. Your father wasn’t very forthcoming but he considered it.”

“You would have had to fight for our hands in marriages. You wouldn't have survived.”

Killian quirked a brow, the corner of his lips curling. “I don’t know, Kylo Ren seemed to survive well enough.” 

“You haven’t seen the injuries I gave him.”

“I was quite sad when I heard he had won you. When we heard you were alive we wanted to get you home as soon as we could.” 

“To marry you I imagine,” Sol finished. “Marry the last descendant of Ossan into the family and your fathers' reign would have been legitimate. But are you sure it would have been you I’d marry?” Sol lifted her brows in question, letting Killian twirl her around. “Are you sure your father wouldn’t have had your mother killed so that I could take the throne as his queen? All of our children would be legitimate and  _ you _ would have been the expendable one.” 

“I wouldn’t have allowed it. You’re rightfully mine.” His hold on her grew tighter. The act was that of a child who’s toy was about to be taken from them. 

“ _ I am rightfully Kylo’s if anything _ ,” Sol insisted. 

“You don’t have to be,” Killian added smoothly. Her eyes found Kylo over Killian's shoulder. He was standing in the shadows, arms folded over his chest head turned toward the conversation around him. He wasn’t in the conversation, just on the outskirts. A knot formed in her stomach. 

With her brows inched together her eyes turned back to Killian. “You’re suggesting I divorce my husband?”

Killian drew a breath in between his teeth, made a face and shrugged. “Divorce isn’t final enough.”

“You’d have me kill him,” Sol affirmed. “For what? What could you give me that he can’t?”

“Ori,” Killian answered. 

Sol looked at him incredulously. “Kylo can do that.”

“Kylo Ren is the Supreme Leaders dog. You’re many things, Sol, but you’re not stupid. If they’d give you Ori, why haven't they.” Sol was about ready by then to tackle Killian to the ancient wooden floor and strangle him right then and there. Nothing would please her more than to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze until he was blue in the face. 

“I haven’t upheld my part of the bargain,” Sol growled. 

“To them, you’re expendable, Sol. With me, you’d be a queen. We’d be partners and our children would succeed us. Ori would be safer for it.” 

“And what’s to stop you from getting rid of me once I pop out a child or two?” Sol argued. Why did it always have to come down to that? Why should her life and dreams be put into peril once she has a child? No matter what, it seemed that all she was good for was birthing children. 

“I wouldn’t. You’re fit to be a queen.  _ You’d be home _ .” 

Sol was tired of this conversation. “I am fit for a queen and I will be home eventually. But my dear Killian, my ambition reached further than Ori. You wouldn’t be suggesting this if you weren’t unsure about Ori’s future, unsure of your legitimacy and more importantly, threatened by my union with Kylo and the First Order.”

They let go of one another, contempt shining in their eyes. Her marriage to him wouldn’t be much different than the one she had to Kylo with the exception that she had grown rather fond of Kylo. He at least respected her. Killian would not. Entertaining the idea of replacing Kylo with Killian was wildly out of bounds. Once she would have contemplated it, even now deep down she thought of it, but thinking of it and actually entertaining the idea as an option was different. 

“Are you so insecure about your rule that you think our marriage would help any?”

“Had I known you were with the Red Lady I would have taken you instead of Moré,” Killian hissed, face turning red in embarrassment. He was still a child. 

“Had you gotten me, Killian, you wouldn’t have survived. Praise yourself lucky you got Moré, and hope to the stars she doesn’t get wind of this.” Sol turned and walked away, feeling the fire of irritability burn within her. Hundreds of eyes followed her departure, not just prickling her skin now but scratching at it. Her feet carried her to the hall of her ancestors, or what should have been the hall of her ancestors. The red walls that once held the plaque with the name of kings and queens and all the Ossan were gone. The walls seemed naked with the exception of a big portrait of Tarlan Vox and a gilded plaque with his name on it.  _ The first in the Vox dynasty. _

But it wasn’t just the picture that caught her eye. Beneath in, hung in the way one draws a lineage, were her family swords. There was her mothers' mother of pearl sword and her fathers' sword. Beneath them were Mun’s sword, Kol and I’llyn’s swords, the twins' swords and even her own sword. 

A display of victory... The only sword missing was Alloras. 

Her heart constrained.

“I had my soldiers search for days to find your sister's sword but it was lost to the vacuum of space or blown to bits. A shame really,” Tarlan spoke, his voice calm and steady. He came up to stand beside her, surveying his trophies and the gigantic painting of himself. 

“You’ve mounted them,” Sol couldn’t keep the disgust off her face. “ _ Like trophies.” _

She felt jittery, like coals crackled beneath her skin, like the air was drowning her lungs but she had to keep her composure, she couldn’t show how it tore at her. 

“My men looked for Allora’s sword for days. Finding such a little thing in the vacuum of space was impossible, a shame really, it would have completed my collection.”

“Well, you  _ thought _ that you had killed every last one of us,” Sol turned to him with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t.”

“I had hoped I had all of you,” Tarlan Vox stepped forward, fingers caressing Sol’s sword with a tenderness that made a shiver go down her spine. “We never found your body. My wife and son decided you had died somewhere on Ori trying to escape, but I always had a feeling you might be out there. I hoped you weren't.”

Tarlan lifted Sol’s sword off the wall, turning it over in his hands before holding it out to Sol. “I asked my wife to remove the bounty on your head but she’s quite stubborn when her children's future is endangered.”

Sol pushed her sword back to Tarlan, straightening her back and looking at him with a threatening ascendancy. Her sword meant nothing now and neither did the gesture of giving it to her. She was the last of Ossan and thereby laid her rightful claim in the sword of rulers, her legacy. Sol moved past Tarlan and took down the sword of kings and queens. It was a simple design on the outside, sleek and black, with the golden sigil of Ossan at the top of the sheath. The sword itself was of black songsteel, always sharp and never dull. 

Sol turned to Tarlan, who looked a mixture of impressed and pissed off. He knew what the gesture meant. She was openly laying claim to the throne. His rule was now vulnerable. 

“Remove the bounty or no, it doesn’t matter. By now you should know that The Crow are no more.”

“The Red Lady are,” Tarlan noted, stepping closer to Sol. 

“You may lay claim to the throne but you’ll never have it. I have the people, the Nobles and the protection of the First Order on my side.” 

“From what I’ve seen the people are discontent.”

“The people need an iron fist to rule them. They will follow me because I give them no choice.” Tarlan’s voice had turned darker, more hushed and gravely. Anger and superiority burned in his eyes, the grip on Sol’s old sword tightening until his knuckles turned white. 

“Fear always gives way for hope.” 

“Not when there is no hope,” Tarlan answered sharply. “Not when the other choice might be worse than what they already have. I might be involved with the First Order but you, you married into it. Do you think they’ll bow down to you?” 

“From what I’ve heard the First Order is discontent with your performance. They might think putting me on the throne is the better option.” 

Something changed in his eyes. “I get direct orders from the Supreme Leader. Perhaps you’re not as informed as you might think.” 

Sol narrowed her eyes at him. “You think the people would follow someone who gets orders from someone else? I’ve negotiated a sovereignty deal with Snoke giving me the sole rule of Ori.”

“Then you’re stupid. At least your father and mother weren’t naive or stupid. You’re a pawn they move into place, one they’d remove after you’ve served your purpose. I secure Ori by following The Supreme Leader, something tells me you’re less inclined to do that.”

Sol felt dizzy with anger. It hummed within her, seeking some sort of outlet, an outlet she couldn’t afford to do at the moment, so instead, it raged on inside of her. It was like every time she got her footing, assured herself she was doing the right thing, that she could secure her place, the rug was pulled out from underneath her by the words of her enemies. She hated the thought of following Snoke, but it was the only option. 

She already had the concerns of being a pawn, the concern that she would serve her purpose of standing by Kylo and giving him a child, then get killed off. But what else could she do? 

Tarlan chuckled coldly, sharply, a chuckle meant to drive a knife forth and plant it between her ribs. He had the same look on his face she imagined she wore when she killed those slave trader pirates. It made a shiver go down her spine. 

“It was the same reason The Supreme Leader and The First Order helped me overthrow your family.” Sol turned to stone, eyes widening as she drew in a breath. She hadn’t thought of it and that was her fault. Perhaps she was unwilling to believe it. “I couldn’t do it alone so The Supreme Leader and I came to an agreement. I imagine you’d want vengeance on everyone who took part in the killing, well that includes The First Order who, graciously now, is your only lifeline. I’m only saddened that I couldn’t say your husband was there.” 

Sol swallowed the overwhelming feeling of dissonance that was drowning her from the inside out. Her ears ringed. “I suppose I just have to settle on taking you down.” 

Her voice was surprisingly even and she held herself well, like a statue made of iron and porcelain. With those final words, Sol left, each step slow and controlled until she left the room and was out in the hall. She turned away from the party and made her way towards a pavilion outside, water gently flowing around her and underneath the pavilion. The moons were high on the sky, shining brightly and without disturbance. 

Sol put down the sword by the entryway, massaging the impression it had made in her hand from how tightly she was holding it. By the other side of the small pavilion, a table with fruits had been set up for guests, knives and forks gleaming in the moonlight. 

She couldn’t return to the party, not yet, not until the mere  _ wrongness _ she felt had left her. It felt like she was on the brink of falling into an emotionless trance. One wrong step and she’d fall. 

“Finally, a moment alone with you, my child,” A soft, familiar voice spoke. 

Sol felt a cold hand run down her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She turned slowly towards the woman, her heart sinking. 

Red hair was pinned carefully up on one side, the other falling like a swaying stream over her shoulder. The dress she wore was red and tight, the fabric shining as she moved with a sway to her hips. And there, those green eyes gleamed at her with glee that could only be described like a predator standing over its fallen prey. 

The Red Lady.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the new year, I'll begin to get my routine back, so I'll write every Saturday and properly update there or Sunday. I don't know if I'll be able to write over Christmas, there's always so much all the time.
> 
> Tell me what you think. What are your thoughts on Tarlan? Is Sol beginning to regret the deal with Snoke? Is there something else she can do to survive?
> 
> Next Chapter well reap the fallout of Killian, Tarlan and Lady Red's conversation with Sol. I mean, she's brought back to a place where something traumatic happened, she talked with the people who did the trauma to her, there's only so much a person can do before they snap. 
> 
> What do you expect of the red lady?


	29. The Red Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol will finally meet Lady Red again after all those years. The trauma of the day is taking its toll. An appearance of Moré. Soft Kylo.

The world seemed to crash in on her. For a moment she was afraid she might faint, small dark dots dancing in her line of vision, dizziness making her limbs turn to lead. Sol blinked at Lady Red and the smile on her face. She came up to her and cupped her cheek like a mother does a child. But Lady Red was  _ not _ what a mother should be like. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Sol stammered weakly. 

“Don’t stutter, it’s unbecoming,” Lady Red chided, tapping Sol's chin before moving away to gaze out over the water. “Vox invited me and I accepted. I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” Sol questioned, controlling the tremor in her voice. She was suspicious and afraid of what brought Lady Red forth. Whatever she did, she did with reason, be it her own or someone else's. If people thought Sol wicked and cruel, Lady Red was on another level entirely. Lady Red’s love was a cruelty if you could even call it love. 

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?” She turned to Sol again, green eyes a whip over Sol’s skin. Sol would believe it. She’d been a good soldier. 

“You let me go,” Sol said instead. 

“I did but I hoped you’d return to me when times got tough. I hoped you’d finally accept that you were my protogé.” 

Sol’s hands balled at her side, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm. Her heart somehow felt constrained and like it threatened to jump out of her chest. A cold sweat made even colder by a breeze flowing through the pavilion. Now wasn’t the time to panic, Sol told herself, but her body had begun to shut down. 

“Imagine my surprise when you married Kylo Ren, apprentice of The Supreme Leader. I had hoped tipping them off that you’d see reason and return to me when I got you out.” 

“You sold me out?”

“I did it for your own good. You wouldn’t come to me on your own so I had to make you.” Lady red patted Sol’s cheek lightly, then moved towards the fruit table, picking a berry and rolling it between her fingers. “I never imagined you to be Ossan.”

“It must have hurt to know that you had someone so valuable without knowing,” Sol’s voice trembled but retained a cold she surprised herself with. Lady Red quirked a brow at her, eyes sharp, then dropped the berry into her red-stained mouth, a light crunch coming as she chewed down on it. 

“Had I known you wouldn’t be where you are today,” she mused, waving her hand around in the air. “Your marriage into the Order, with Kylo Ren of all people, is an opportunity beyond imagination. We could use it.”

“ _ We _ ?” 

“Well, of course, my child. You didn’t think I’d truly let you go? Especially now when we’re so close to getting everything we want.” The ambition shining in her eyes was terrifying. It burned as bright as a lightsaber, able to cut through everything in its path with little to no resistance. An ambition Sol knew so well. 

Sol’s heart sank into her stomach. Her whole body felt heavy and not entirely hers, pulsating with the beat of her heart. 

“You need Kylo to fall in love with you,” Mother Red began, stalking through the pavilion as she thought aloud. “Perhaps, he already is. You must make you inexpendable, carve a way into The First Order so that they won't get rid of you. The Supreme Leader undoubtedly already has a plan for you, you must follow it better than anyone, exceed his expectations, it wouldn’t do if you’re discarded immediately. He’ll breed you, but you must hold out, just a little while longer, make sure he knows that you know your place. If you gain enough allies, then when the time is right, you get rid of the Supreme Leader and place Kylo on the throne and when he rules, you’ll get rid of him as well. You and I will rule the galaxy. Of course, you must give up on Ori, you can’t be queen and rule when you’re aiming for so much bigger.”

Her eyes widened, brows coming down together in confusion and surprise, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Lady Red looked down at the knife sticking out of her stomach, Sol’s grip still tight on the shaft of the blade. She had the look of astonishment on her face. 

Sol didn’t know how she managed to get the knife in her hand, it was just suddenly there and then she drew it forward with an unknown purpose. Her body felt numb, a blank look in her eyes. “I won’t let you use me again.”

The knife slipped out of Lady Red’s flesh, the bloodstain grew darkly on her dress, matched with another bloodstain that formed as Sol drew the blade into her stomach again, pulling the blade out slowly. The Red Lady stumbled back, back hitting one of the pillars, blood dripping from between her fingers. She slipped down the pillar, face awfully pale. 

Sol felt her eyes gloss over, voice distant and even as she spoke, crouching down to level with the dying woman. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve taught me but your time is over. I won't become your puppet again.”

“You might not be my puppet but you’re already someone else's,” The Red Lady breathed. “Don’t be. Unleash your ambition, that is the only way you become me.”

“I won’t become you,” Sol said sharply. Something faltered in Lady Red’s spirit like she couldn’t believe it. 

“You already have.” She tried to push herself up from the awkward angle, neck bent in an uncomfortable way, but she didn’t have the strength. “I’m proud of you, my little protogé.” She reached up to touch Sol’s face but Sol pushed her hand away, standing and stepping back from her, body heavy like lead. 

“You’re wrong.” 

The light died out in The Red Lady’s eyes, body relaxing into death with one last breath. The bloody knife shook in Sol’s grip but she was unable to let go of it, her whole body wound up, screaming. There wasn’t enough air for her lungs; they felt petrified. Maybe, she was turning to stone herself, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about anything around her. 

“Sol?” It took an eternity before her eyes found him, the world moving in slow-motion. Kylo was standing in the opening of the pavilion. 

Kylo watched on from the side of the dancefloor, surrounded by a crowd that was ‘gracious’ enough to include him in their conversation. He wasn’t listening to their chatter, totally uninterested, but after a few crude words and mostly silent answers they had stopped speaking with him. His eyes were on his wife and that belligerent prince. He could sense the tension in Sol, watched the way her face was forced into that particular mask she wore of sly amusement. 

Whatever they were talking about bringing her eyes to his and for a moment he wondered if it was worth it starting a war with Ori by killing their crown prince. It would be so easy. All he had to do was reach out with the force and wrap it around his neck. 

Sol left the dance floor, her steps were quick but controlled. The crown prince looked after her, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, then turned on his heels, catching Kylo’s eyes. He smirked and Kylo again had to contemplate whether war was worth it. It wasn’t that the war was the problem, it was Hux’s superiority complex and chastising, and The Supreme Leader's wrath. The ladder was what he was most concerned about. 

Kylo decided to give Sol a few minutes before going looking for her. He didn’t excuse himself from the conversation and just walked away, to the astonishment of his allies. Easily he cut through the crowd, no one really wanted to be in his way, a thing he was most grateful for. He remembered the time he had to find his mother and had to push through the crowd of a party, slipping through the small gaps that constantly moved. He had turned it into a game.

Kylo shook the bothersome memory out of his head and entered a mostly empty hall. His eyes caught the glimpse of Sol and her dress passing through a door and then she was gone. 

Tarlan Vox stood before his portrait with his hands behind his back, looking after Sol, then turned to face Kylo. 

“She’s turned into quite the woman,” Tarlan spoke as he walked up to Kylo. 

“What did you say to her?” 

“The truth,” Tarlan answered. “I have to warn you, Commander Ren, women like her are dangerous. You’ll never know where you have her. She’s feral and might bite the hand that feeds her. You should keep an eye on her.”

“Are you warning me?”

“Warning, advising, it's all the same,” Tarlan waved uncaring of what word Kylo would choose, to him it was all the same. 

“Then let me  _ advise _ you, King Tarlan,” Kylo’s voice was low and threatening, he loomed over the King. “Sol has the full backing of The First Order, your days as King are being counted, you should start making plans, she won’t show you any mercy and neither will I.”

“It seems you’re not as ‘in the loop’ as I thought you’d be. My friendship with the Supreme Leader is strong if I were you I’d be concerned with your wife she isn’t one to let go of grudges.” 

Kylo ground his teeth but said nothing. He left. The irritation was brewing within his chest, irritation of Tarlan’s words, irritation of the prince, irritation of having to attend the party. He just wanted to find Sol and take her to their rooms. 

When he did find her, the irritation evaporated in surprise. She was standing pale as a sheet, hands shaking, eyes glassy and unfocused. He saw the bloody knife and then the body of who he presumed to be The Red Lady. 

Then and there he knew what had happened, even if he didn’t specifically  _ know _ . His voice was soft when he spoke, beckoning, “Sol.”

Her eyes were slow to find him, but they did find him. He quickly came up to her, both hands cupping the sides of her face as he looked over her face and body for any injuries. There were none. His gloved thumbs brushed her cheeks, trying to ease the tension in her body. 

“I killed her,” Sol spoke weakly, voice trembling. Kylo swallowed. 

“We have to get you away from here, okay?” He knew the implications of what had happened would be against them. He had to get her away from the scene and then find a way to clean it up. Kylo took off his cape and placed it around Sol’s shoulders, letting the heavy fabric enclose around her and hide most of the bloodstains on her dress. 

With one hand on the small of her back, he leads her out, taking the sword resting at the entry in his other hand knowing it was hers. She moved mechanically, like she wasn’t entirely in control of her body, dissociated. Kylo made sure to vacate the halls, moving through the palace grounds like a ghost. 

Moré moved into their path and Kylo stopped. The woman smiled brightly, dress billowing around her as she moved towards them, unknowing of what had happened. It wasn’t until her smile began to falter, eyes travelling over Sol’s form and finding the bloody knife still clutched in her hand, Kylo knew she knew. He thought about cutting the girl down where she stood, decimating the immediate threat in front of him, but Sol was present enough to stop him. 

Even if she didn’t know what had happened exactly, Moré somehow still  _ knew _ . Kylo was stiff by Sol’s side, on guard and ready to kill her the moment he got a whiff of her being a threat. 

Moré brushed the hair out of Sol’s face and cupped her cheek, eyes saying everything Sol needed to know. It bothered Kylo but he didn’t intervene. 

Moré took the knife from Sol’s grip, then looked directly up at Kylo with a gaze that wasn’t anything less than intense. “I will take care of it. All you have to do is take care of is her.”

“Is that the price?” Kylo’s voice was cold and sceptical.

“Sol doesn’t want to be the next Lady Red.”

“So you will take that position.”

“She did what I couldn’t. We’re even.” Moré didn’t say any more, she just gave Kylo a pointed look and left. 

“She won’t tell,” Sol commented weakly. “It’ll put herself in a dangerous position. She isn’t a threat.”

Kylo accepted her words and lead her the rest of the way. 

Kylo was gentle in cleaning her up. In the comforts of their own rooms, he relieved himself of the helmet and began working on her. Sol watched him distantly, exhaustion pulling at her mind, making everything go slow and foggy. Kylo washed the blood off her hands with a rag, his touch soft and comforting. It was strange such a violent man could be so soft. 

He removed her dress, then the stones from her hair and then her makeup, taking care of her the same way she had done for him so many times before when he came home with wounds. 

Sol had a hard time reconciling with everything that happened on this night. It had shaken her. It had formed cracks in the fundament of her beliefs and she wasn’t sure how to fix them. Most of all she felt like no matter what she did she wouldn’t be safe. And that was all she wanted, to be safe. 

But how safe can you be when you’re surrounded by an enemy? If she gave Kylo a child she’d be much closer to be expendable, if she didn’t give him a child then what was her use? She couldn’t trust The First Order and she couldn’t trust Snoke, so who could she trust? Kylo was tethered to Snoke and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to break that tether. Maybe, somehow she could convince him that Snoke was the dangerous one. If Snoke was gone Kylo would rule and she could rule with him. 

But was it worth giving up on her vengeance against those who played a part in the demise of her family? She didn’t even believe in the ideals of the First Order. 

“Sol?” Kylo spoke, with a finger lifting her face to meet his. 

“Would you ever work with the resistance if it meant getting to Luke?” Kylo frowned at her question, unsure of the meaning behind it. 

“No,” he answered calmly. “I’ll find Skywalker on my own, I don’t need the resistance, they’re nothing but vermin.” 

Sol nodded quietly. 

“We’ll destroy the Jedi and the resistance, and then we’ll destroy Vox and his dynasty. You’ll get everything you ever wanted,” he gently kissed her forehead. “And the two of us will be some of the most powerful people in the galaxy.”

Sol smiled at him and drew his lips to hers. She wanted to believe that it was that easy. 

“Someone left you a gift,” Kylo spoke, bringing the box into the room. Sol looked over her shoulders, fighting with an earring. 

“Who’s it from?”

“There’s no letter.” He gave her the wooden box, a menial thing, not worth a whole lot. Sol pursed her lips in thought and turned over the box in her hands, wiggling the lid back and forth until it could slide out from its hold completely. Within the box were red silk fabric. Sol removed the first layer of fabric and breathed in at the sight of the knife. 

It was long and thin and perfect for stabbing. The blade itself wasn’t anything special, good metal with the capacity to go through armour, what was special was the technology within the blade. It was able to cauterise the stab wound it made with the flick of a switch, ensuring not a drop of blood to be spilt, but the most special thing was the electric current that could go through it. It’d make the victim size up, freezing the muscles in the place they were in and basically petrifying the victim. 

It was a rare gift. 

“Is it a threat?” 

“It’s a promise,” Sol spoke gently. “And a thank you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! I'm finally done with this chapter. Am I satisfied? No. Will it get any better? Also no. 
> 
> I'll try and get back to regularly updating every week. 
> 
> If you would please leave comments, it really helps with inspiration and motivation!


	30. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol and Kylo visit the supremacy on their way back to SKB. Kylo has a meeting with Snoke.

The Supremacy was far bigger than the Finalizer. Sol was daunted by this, finding it incredible that such a ship even existed. It also increased her concern as to  _ why _ they were going to the Supremacy instead of StarKiller Base. They had received the transmission that Snoke wanted to see Kylo in person and Sol couldn’t help but be anxious. 

Kylo’s worry didn’t help. Even if he didn’t voice it, he was concerned as well. It was one thing being called into a meeting with a hologram and another thing entirely to be called into a private meeting. 

But it also gave Sol the excuse to get familiar with the Supremacy and more importantly, work on an escape plan. She already had one for the Finalizer and StarKiller Base, it was second nature to her. It made her feel more secure, knowing she’d be able to try and escape if needed. And with the First Order and Snoke, you’d never know. 

“What do you think he wants?” Sol questioned, following Kylo out of the ship and into the hangar. 

“Most likely he wants to know how the hunt for Skywalker hasn't born fruit yet,” Kylo answered darkly. Failure would require punishment and Sol didn’t want to think about how creative Snoke could become. Kylo might not have mentioned anything, but he didn’t have to, she knew that he had faced punishments before. It was one of the things that made her detest Snoke. 

“How long will we stay?” 

“For the meeting only, still, you should get familiar with our quarters.”

“I’m guessing they look exactly like the Finalizer and StarKiller Base,” Sol grumbled, bored with the thought of the similar interior. The very least they could do was change some things, add a little colour, make it less drab and depressing. Everything had to be minimal and functional. Boring. 

Two stormtroopers lead Sol to her quarters and just as expected it looked like the Finalizer. It wasn’t even bigger. Sol’s luggage was carried in and left in the middle of the room so that she could unpack. The stormtroopers left her alone from then on. She was a little bitter that Kylo forced her to leave her luggage here, but she understood why. Begrudgingly so. Kylo had explained that it was better to divide up her clothes and valuables so that if anything were to happen to her other closets, she’d still have some of her stuff. Sol had sharply pointed out that she could just  _ buy _ a whole new wardrobe. She didn’t win that argument. 

After putting away her clothes, jewellery and makeup, Sol began packing a ‘go bag’ as she called it, with some credits, some jewellery, a blaster she managed to steal from a stormtrooper and the far bigger theft of an entire stormtrooper armour. It wasn’t easy, but she managed. 

Sol moved into the closet with the big bundle filling up her arms, and placed it on the floor, before she crawled up on a chair, hoisted herself further up the shelves at the stop, which she managed to lie on top of with her upper body, using her strength to keep in place as she uncrewed the vent opening and pushed it aside. It was exactly like the Finalizer, just a grander scale. 

Sol stuffed the go-bag into the vent with a few strained grunts, pushing it down one side to ensure it wasn’t able to be seen through the holes of the vent opening, then screwed the opening back in place. 

In the middle of the bundle, her new knife resided. She’d need it if she were ever to escape the Supremacy, perhaps more so than any other place, and she wanted to keep it safe, away from prying eyes. 

Now, with all that done, Sol decided to walk the halls of the Supremacy, waiting until Kylo was done in his meeting. She couldn’t wait to get away. The air on the Supremacy was heavy, it wound her up and made her uncomfortable, as if every movement she made, she was being watched. 

“Lady Ren, you shouldn’t be wandering the halls, you’ll get lost,” a cold and controlled voice spoke. 

Sol turned towards it and was met with someone unfamiliar. He was tall, lines of age edged into his hard face, eyes piercing blue and far colder than Hux’s ever managed to be. He looked entirely indifferent towards her like she was nothing but a fly. This man has never laughed in his life, she wasn’t sure he had ever smiled either. 

“Is that an order?” She questioned, rolling back her shoulders and meeting him straight on. 

“A meer concern,” He said. “Let me introduce myself, I am Allegiant General, Enric Pryde.” 

“A pleasure,” Sol smiled politely. 

“Let me show you back to your quarters,” Pryde said, turning to let Sol pass him. Sol didn’t move.

“I’d rather you show me to the throne room so I can wait on my husband there,” Sol ventured. Pryde’s lips tightened, but he said nothing and instead led her down another hall. They moved in silence. 

She got a feeling that he was sizing her up. Something about him made a shiver go down her spine. Pryde seemed practical, no emotion, faithful and ruthless. It made her long for Hux. At least with him, she knew where she had him, Pryde was harder to pin down. 

Pryde led her to the doors of the throne room, guarded by red armoured men. Pryde bowed shortly for her and just as he had shown up, he was gone once more, leaving her with the two guards and a feeling that she made the right choice when dressing. 

Sol leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, boredom turning to worry as time seemed to drag by exceedingly slow. By the time Kylo revealed himself from behind the metal doors, Sol had gnawed at her bottom lip until it became swollen. His presence was off, he passed her quietly and she followed with quick steps, trying to keep up with his wide strides. 

“What did he want?” She asked, jogging up to walk beside him.

“To remind me where my priorities should lie,” Kylo answered shortly. 

With each step towards the throne room, Kylo felt a heaviness press in on him, which only increased the moment the doors opened up. It felt like falling into the water with all his armour on, the weight of it pulling him down, down, down, the pressure rising as the bubbles fled towards the surface. 

Kylo’s eyes met Snokes. He bowed down on one knee, lowering his head in reverence. 

“Rise,” Snoke spoke, lifting his gnarled hand commanding. 

Kylo did as he was told. He felt Snoke's presence prickle against his skin like tiny needles, poking at his being, searching for a tender spot, a weakness. Kylo swallowed. 

“Report on the progress of finding Skywalker,” Snoke said, his beady eyes narrowed with scrutiny. 

“I’ve sent Eon out on a lead. This person he’s seeking might hold the information that could get us one step closer to Skywalker. We’ve got 6 pieces of the map that could lead us to him.” 

“The search for Skywalker is dragging on, my apprentice.” The sharp tone in Snoke's voice made a shiver run down Kylo’s spine. “My patience is wearing thin.”

“Supreme Lea-,” Kylo began but was cut off by Snoke holding up his hand, forcing him to be quiet. 

“Perhaps you’ve lost your motivation?”

“No, Supreme Leader, my motivation is as strong as ever,” Kylo stressed, frustration rising within his chest. He hadn’t lost motivation, he wanted to see Skywalker dead, to finally be released from his haunting presence and finally become a real Sith Lord. With Skywalker's death, he’d become a legend, he’d have done the one thing his grandfather couldn’t, kill the Jedi, kill Luke Skywalker. The Supreme Leader had to know his commitment. 

“Is it?” Snoke questioned with malice. “Your wife seemed to have weakened you. I told you, she’d either bring you greatness or be your downfall.”

“Sol has strengthened me, Supreme Leader. She fuels my ambition.” 

“She weakens you with her own,” Snoke countered. “Haven't you felt it? The uncertainty in her, her ambition wavering? If she’s left unchecked she’ll turn against us and she’ll have you turn against me.”

“She won't!” Kylo protested, stepping forward. It was the wrong move. He immediately felt Snokes’ invisible tendrils wrap around his body, bringing him to his knees. His breath caught in his throat, his temples tensing with the clenching of his jaw, blood screaming in his ears. His heart drummed against his chest. 

“Your affection for her is weakening you, clouding your judgement. Maybe you’re not worthy of being my apprentice, you can’t even control your emotions.” Snoke rose from his seat, towering over Kylo with his golden clad mangled form. “Without me, you’d be nothing. Do not forget that. Sol will try and turn you against me because I’m a threat. You will not indulge yourself in her fantasies, she’s a tool, nothing else.”

Kylo fought against Snoke's hold, the pressure at his temples rising with blinding pain. It wasn’t the first time he had been punished for his faults but each time had a distinctive, new pain. Nausea churned in his gut, sweat beginning to make his clothes stick to his skin uncomfortably, while also making him shiver. 

And then, all of a sudden, he was released. 

Kylo caught himself with his hands, body shaking with exertion, breath quick and hard. 

“Sol is as much our enemy as she is our ally. Do not forget yourself, Kylo, you’re the grandchild of one of the greatest Sith Lords, there’s only one way to become greater than him.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Kylo managed to say with an even voice, forcing himself from his knees to his feet. A strange sort of calm befell him, allowing the dark side to strengthen his spirit. 

The Supreme Leader was right. He had lost sight of what was important. He had spent so much time helping Sol avenge her family, forgetting his duties. Allowing Sol to manipulate him and use him… Allowing her to become his solace, it was a mistake. He leaned too much on her, needed her too much. Sol was his wife, she’d always be his wife and he’d always hold affection for her, but he needed to take control again. His priority should be with the Supreme Leader. And when Skywalker was dead and the Resistance had been demolished, then he could ease up. 

“Who are you?”

“Kylo Ren, grandchild to Darth Vader and apprentice to the Supreme Leader.”

“The light in you stirrers with your affections of Sol, do not let it. Feed into Sol’s darkness instead of light, and maybe she’ll find her way to us once more,” Snoke spoke wisely. “Now, leave me, find Skywalker and end the Jedi once and for all.” 

Kylo bowed to Snoke and turned on his heels. 

“Do not forget where your loyalties should lie, do not need me to remind you again.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter but a needed one. Next chapter might take a while longer since it should be bigger. 
> 
> Please drop a comment so I can get some motivation! 
> 
> What is your thought of this turn?

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be afraid to leave a comment, it's what keeps me inspired enough to write. 
> 
> And pls tell me if you're interested in Betaing or if there's any mistakes.


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